


City of Blood

by kirkwall_group_therapy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Chateau Haine, F/F, F/M, Feast day, Feast of Satinalia, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), M/M, Multi, Ostagar (Dragon Age), Strip Wicked Grace (Dragon Age), The Band of Three, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), Wicked Grace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 93,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkwall_group_therapy/pseuds/kirkwall_group_therapy
Summary: Hawke's life has been filled with danger and excitement, and overwhelming sorrow. She managed to keep herself together after she and her brother fought in the Battle of Ostagar and escaped Lothering, but life in Kirkwall hasn't been easy, or pleasant. Keeping her sister safe from the templars and desperately trying to provide a better life for her and her mother has driven her to accept a partnership for an expedition to the Deep Roads. But the expedition is just the beginning of a number of spiraling and ever expanding tragedies. She returns to Kirkwall a rich woman, but at what cost? Consumed by pain and guilt, Hawke turns to the bottle to find her strength and against the advice of her companions, accepts an offer to train as a Reaver. But just as Flemeth knew, fate isn't done with Hawke yet.The story begins with Dragon Age 2, and will follow through/beyond Inquisition!





	1. Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> Act 1 warning: occasional use of common curses in Thedas; discussion of adult topics, including sex and Wicked Naked Grace; non-gory violence against bad guys and critters, particularly spiders.
> 
> No sex scenes in Act 1. Continue reading to Act 2 for those. ; )
> 
> Please leave me comments! I would love to know what you think of Act 1. I have written this much in a long time, and this is my first time sharing something with others, so I'd really like your feedback, both comments of encouragement and constructive criticism. 
> 
> Thanks!

Kirkwall has always had a rough past, far beyond what most people know. But Kirkwall had never seen a shitstorm quite the one that arrived with Hawke. As always, cursed with stunning good looks and an uncanny talent for knocking heads and getting shit done, Hawke found herself the center of attention nearly everywhere she went - without even trying. She didn’t even want the attention. She was just trying to take care of her family.

But to properly tell this tale, we need to back up a little. See Hawke wasn’t born in Kirkwall. No, she was raised in Fereldan. Charlene Maxella Hawke. Aka Charlie, though everyone knew her as Hawke. Born to Malcolm Hawke and Leandra Amell, with younger twin siblings Carver & Bethany. Like everything these days, magic had plagued them their whole lives. Both Malcolm & Bethany were apostate mages - that is mages living “illegally” outside the control and supervision of the Chantry’s mage circles and their holy knights, the templars. They had to leave their home in Amaranthine when Bethany discovered her magic at the age of 9. That’s when they moved to Lothering, a small farming community in the south, on the edge of legendary, barbaric Korcari Wilds. There they spent the rest of their lives trying to hide Bethany and Malcolm from the templars.

When they were older, Carver and Hawke both joined King Cailan’s army and fought in the battle of Ostagar, where the Hero of Fereldan’s story began. After Loghain pulled his men out of the fight, betraying the King and leaving him to die, the blight began spreading north- endangering Lothering. With Malcolm already dead, it was up to Hawke to protect their mother and her younger sister, so they fled Lothering and headed north. Their destination was none other than Kirkwall, where Leandra had been born and raised. Her brother, Hawke’s uncle Gamlen, still lived there and it was the only place they had left to go.

Darkspawn dogged their heels, and they almost didn’t make it out alive. Fate joined them together with another solider from King Cailan’s army, Aveline, and her husband Wesley, a templar. Though providence, and a Witch of the Wilds, had saved them from the never-ending darkspawn - Carver didn’t survive. He died protecting the family. Fate also demanded the life of Aveline’s husband before they at last made it to safely to Kirkwall. But Kirkwall was already drowning in Fereldan refugees. The price to get in was steep, and like all the other refugees, the Hawkes had nothing but the clothes on their backs and their humble weapons. They had expected that they would immediately be given entry due to Hawke’s Uncle Gamlen and the family estate, but they arrived only to find that he had gambled away the family fortunate and lived in squalor. He managed to find them a backer, a investor - someone willing to pay for their way into the city, but it required becoming indentured servants for a year, working for an elven smuggler woman named Athenril.

It was right around the end of their contract with Athenril when I met them. Really that’s when we all met Hawke and became a family. A twisted, messed up sort of a family, but a family none the less. That’s also about the time the Qunari arrived. The enormous horned humanoids made everyone nervous. They were ship wrecked, and supposedly waiting on a ship to come pick them up.

Hawke & Bethany were trying to join my brother Bartrand’s expedition to the deep roads. Bartrand wouldn’t know the sharp end of a sword if it stabbed him the ass. He couldn’t see that we needed people like Hawke - experienced swords who had actually faced and killed darkspawn before. And Hawke wasn’t like the others; she had already made a name for herself while working for Athenril. Her reputation spoke for itself - she was a woman who got shit done. I knew we needed Hawke & Bethany, but the only way I would be able to convince my brother to hire them on, would be if Hawke became a partner in the venture. It was an expensive investment, but worth it. Or at least that’s how we all felt at the time. Honestly, most of Kirkwall’s problem can be traced back to that damned expedition. Or at least Kirkwall’s problems were exacerbated by it. But, we’ll get to that …

~

“Do you miss home?” Bethany asked as they lay in their beds of the small room. The air was stagnate due to the inadequate ventilation in the construction of the Lowtown hovels. The ground was nothing but hardened dirt. The walls were rough as gravel, and just as uncooperative. The dark, ghastly brown material refused all attempts to be painted. Bethany had tried several times in hopes to lighten the place up, to make it feel just a little less dismal.

“I miss …” Hawke paused, trying to understand what it was that she missed, what was it that she longed for? “I miss … Fereldan, I think.” Lady, Hawke’s Mabari war dog, lay on the floor beside her. Her ears perked up at the talk of Fereldan. Maker knows how Lady missed trees and dirt and grass and bugs. She hated the stone walls and the stone roads, and the lack of nature and creatures.

“Not home?” Bethany asked.

“In some ways, yes. It’s just that … I had been away from home for so long already. And I still remember our first home, near Amaranthine. In some ways I miss it more than our home in Lothering. Things were just so … different in Lothering. What I miss is … being a child. I miss hearing father’s laughter. I miss listening to your magic lessons. I miss … I miss his lessons on herbs, and hearing about the circle. I miss playing soldier with Peyton and Carver, and running through the forest with Lady. I miss the simpler times, the lack of responsibility, the sense of being happy and safe, and together. I miss the sense of nature of Fereldan, and … and the simplicity of life in Fereldan,” Hawke said.

“I miss home terribly,” Bethany said. “I miss walls made of wood. And I never thought the ceiling was all that tall, until we came here. I miss the grand fireplace, and the Sylvan wood mantle that father and I found. I miss the family shrine and the old totem pole. I miss the fresh air that would waft through the whole house on a warm spring day, when mother would have all the windows open. And the way the sunlight would pour in and the whole house just glowed. It always gave the house an otherworldly feel, like it was part of the Golden City. So peaceful, so beautiful, so surreal. Mother used to smile more too.”

“Fresh air,” Hawke agreed. “I really miss that.”

“Charlie, I’m scared here,” Bethany whispered after a brief moment of silence.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” Hawke said. “I won’t let the templars take you.”

“There’s just so many of them, and we have nowhere to hide. We don’t have friends or allies like we did back in Lothering, and no woods to flee to. We’re poor, we have no status, and what’s worse, we’re Fereldan refugees. Maybe if we still had the Amell estate … that could be enough to hide behind,” Bethany said.

“You really think the templars here would turn a blind eye if we were nobility?” Hawke asked.

“Maybe not, but they wouldn’t look too closely either, don’t you think?” Bethany asked. “They’d be more gentle, at the very least.”

“It’s going to take mother a long time to petition the Viscount,” Hawke said.

“I heard mother say that there’s also the possibility that we could buy it back. But, it would take a fortune,” Bethany said.

“Better start saving then, eh?” Hawke joked.

“Is there nothing we can do, no way to earn money faster? Taking jobs like this, we’ll never get out of Lowtown,” Bethany replied.

“Hmm,” Hawke said. She had seen a poster about an expedition to the Deep Roads. It promised “more wealth than you can imagine” - but as it equally promised Darkspawn, Hawke had dismissed the idea.

“I heard mother crying again the other night,” Bethany said.

“Me too,” Hawke said.

“I would do anything - well, almost anything - to get her out of this place. Even our own place in Lowtown would be better than this place,” Bethany said. Hawke sighed.

 _Maybe I should just sign up for the expedition. What’s a few more darkspawn at this point?_ Hawke thought. But it recalled scenes from Ostagar, and Carver’s death. Hawke quickly banished the images and rolled onto her side. _But we can’t stay here either. This place is crushing them._

“How do you feel about the Deep Roads?” Hawke eventually asked.

“The Deep Roads? What do you mean?” Bethany asked.

“I saw a poster looking for able men to join an expedition to the Deep Roads. It’s a treasure hunting expedition, and they say that the chances are very good at finding a great deal of treasure. Enough that we might be able to buy back the estate, or, at least it would save us several years of saving up for it,” Hawke explained.

“But that would mean more darkspawn,” Bethany said.

Those grotesque creatures that crawled out of the ground, deep beneath surface, seeming to spring to life from nothing but the abyss itself. Mindless ravagers. Corrupted with the blight; their blood a poison to man, beast, and soil. Supposedly darkspawn were the result of men trying to enter heaven, to enter the Golden City. But instead they corrupted it and were cast out - becoming the first darkspawn. That’s what the chantry always taught. Bethany didn’t know whether she believed any of that part or not, but she could confirm the part about their blood corrupting and decaying everything it touched. Lothering had been completely destroyed by it.

“Indeed. I didn’t even consider it at first, for that reason. But you’re right. We can’t stay here, and it sounds like our best shot,” Hawke said.

“But there’s no guarantee that we’ll find any treasure?” Bethany asked.

“No, no guarantee. We could return just as broke as we were before,” Hawke said.

“Well. I supposed we don’t have anything to lose by giving it a shot,” Bethany said.

“Are you sure?” Hawke asked, a little surprised how readily Bethany had accepted the idea.

“I can’t stand to listen to mother cry any longer than necessary,” Bethany said.

“Alright. We can go to talk to the expedition leader tomorrow,” Hawke said.

“Who is the leader, do you know?” Bethany asked.

“A dwarf named Bartrand Tethras,” Hawke said.

The next morning the two girls walked to the Merchant Guild’s section of Hightown and met with the dwarf, Bartrand. A stingy and greedy little man who couldn’t see what a golden opportunity these two were. He turned them down flat, something that Hawke had never even considered. No one had ever refused to hire her for a job.

Bethany was nearly in tears when they existed Bartrand’s office. Distracted, a pickpocket bumped into Hawke and made off with her coin purse. A loud snap followed by whistle punctured the air as a majestic arrow soared after her target, pinning the pickpocket to the stone wall behind him. A dashing, handsome fellow, impeccably dressed, with pearly white teeth and glittering, strawberry blonde hair, stepped forward and retrieved from the coin purse from the poor kid, and tossed it back to Hawke with a grin and a wink.

“How do you do?” The dwarf said with a smoldering smile, the kind that makes all the women swoon. “Name’s Varric Tethras.” He twirled the arrow he retrieved from the wall, and slid it back into its quiver. “I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn’t know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw.”

“But you would?” Hawke asked.

It being the middle of the day, and in Hightown, Hawke had left her great sword at home along with her heavy armor. But the skillful Varric could still spot the daggers hidden in both of her boots, and a wide bladed knife hidden under the back folds of her shirt. She was different than what he was expecting. For one, he thought she would be taller. Bulkier. She was no petite elf, mind you, but she wasn’t a stocky, dull witted human woman either. He had pictured a woman with a thick neck, perhaps a furry unibrow. As for wits, well, Varric knew that she had to be more intelligent that the average man was, because her reputation for getting jobs done meant that she was able to succeed where simple brute force had not. Still, Varric hadn’t been prepared to meet a woman of average build, slightly shorter than average height, with waist long impossibly straight chestnut brown hair, and striking aqua blue eyes. Bethany too was a stunning beauty. Her eyes nearly matched Hawke’s, but her hair was jet black and wavy, cut at shoulder length. Bethany stood a few inches taller than Hawke, but her face was softer, younger, more innocent, and she had more distinct womanly curves than Hawke. The pair of them were a dazzling sight to behold, true gems of the city if there ever were any to be had. And for a moment Varric considered that these might not be the Hawke sisters that he had heard so much about - if it weren’t for Hawke’s posture, and hardened composure. And one look into her eyes and you could see great violence and great death reflected in them.

“I would,” he replied smoothly. “What my brother doesn’t realize is that we _need_ someone like you. He would never admit it either, he’s too proud. I, however, am quite practical.”

“So you’re part of the expedition?” Hawke asked, clearly missing the part where both Bartrand and Varric shared the same last name.

“That’s right,” Varric said. “The Deep Roads wouldn’t normally be my kind of thing, but I can’t allow the head of our family to go down there alone. So as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in this expedition’s success.”

“What makes you so certain we can help?” Hawke asked. “You know nothing about us.”

“Oh, on the contrary - you’ve made quite the name for yourself this last year. The name Hawke is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Fereldan fresh off the boat,” Varric said.

“You must have heard of my sister, as well then?” Hawke asked cautiously, trying to determine how much he knew.

“Only a little. She’s certainly welcome to come, but I’ll leave that up to you,” Varric said.

“Frankly, I’d rather not stand in the spotlight as it is,” Bethany said.

“Madam, your secrets are safe with me,” Varric replied. So he was aware of Bethany’s magical abilities. Nothing escaped this handsome dwarf’s notice, it seemed.

“What are you offering?” Bethany asked.

“We don’t need another hireling,” Varric said. “What we really need is a partner. The truth is, Bartrand has been tearing his beard out trying to fund this expedition on his own, but he can’t do it. Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can’t refuse. Not with me to vouch for you.”

“Your brother doesn’t seem like the sort who’s willing to split profits,” Hawke said.

“My brother is many things, but he’s not stupid,” Varric said. A statement that would later be put to the test. “Far better to share the profits than be trapped in a thaig with a thousand darkspawn between you and the exit. Trust me, he’ll come around.”

“It sounds interesting, but if I had any gold, I wouldn’t need this job,” Hawke said. “And fifty sovereigns is no small amount.”

“You need to think big,” Varric said. “There’s only a brief window after a blight when the Deep Roads won’t be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life!”

“I think we have to try,” Bethany said. “My only question is if there is enough time for us to save up that much, before the expedition leaves without us.”

“We’ll work together. I have eyes and ears all over the city. I can find some of the most lucrative jobs for you, and I would even be willing to tag along and help provide backup and any insight that might be useful. I can also simply stand there and look pretty for those times when you need something to lift your spirits a little,” Varric winked. “So by working together, you’ll have all the capital you need in no time.”

“What if there’s nothing down there except darkspawn and rubble? How can you be sure we’ll make a profit?” Hawke asked.

“Bartrand isn’t grasping at strings. He’s done his homework. He’s operating on reliable information. Some of the Deep Roads are so old, even dwarves have forgotten them. We just need to get down there, then Bartrand will lead the way. You and I will be there to handle problems,” Varric explained.

“You’re asking me to take a lot on faith,” Hawke said.

“Look, you’re right. There is no guarantee. But I know the templars have been asking questions. How terrible would it be to get out of the city for a while? If this works out, you’ll be rich enough that the order won’t be able to touch you.”

Hawke wasn’t sure that there was such a thing in Kirkwall. In Fereldan, yes. But it would make Bethany safer, and ensure she we would receive the best treatment, if she ever was taken by the templars - at the very least. Templars aside, it would mean being able to give Bethany a nice life, a good life. One she and mother deserved.

Hawke sighed. “Well, it’s not like I had anything better planned,” she grinned.

“Perfect,” Varric said, sincerely relieved. They needed her on this expedition just as much as she needed on it. “Kirkwall is crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job, and you’ll have the money in no time. And, when you have a moment, we should speak more privately, not out in the open like this. I have a room at the Hanged Man in Lowtown. Stop by at your earliest convenience.”

Varric bid the two ladies adieu, and went back to the Hanged Man to begin preparations for the ladies, including reaching out to some of his contacts to see what kind of lucrative jobs were available at the moment.


	2. The Elf

Bethany and Charlie returned from meeting with Varric, but Bethany & Hawke were still feeling a bit unsure of the expedition. Varric had promised to aid them by helping them find jobs, providing some assistance if needed, and by convincing his brother to accept them as partners. Unfortunately, Varric was still a stranger to them and his promises didn’t sound very promising.

“Charlie - let’s not tell mother yet. We still need jobs, so, that part hasn’t changed at all. We can tell her about the Deep Roads, when, or if it really becomes real,” Bethany said, stopping just before they entered the house.

“I couldn’t agree more. No matter when we tell her, mother is going to hate the idea - so I’d rather put it off as long as possible,” Hawke said.

With that, they entered the house. Gamlen was caring on about something or other, as usual, and their mother was not giving him an inch, as usual.

“Some letters came for you girls,” Leandra said, pausing her squabble with Gamlen only long enough to take a breath. Bethany stopped at the table and leafed through them. One in particular caught her eye - it was Athenril’s seal. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

“Charlie, we received a letter from Athenril. It’s a job and it sounds like the pay is decent,” Bethany said.

_ Hawke, _

_ You might be interested in something that’s come up. A contact of mine, a fellow by the name of Anso, is asking around for someone competent regarding a job, and I suggested you. He’s always paid well, so if I were you, I’d check into it before someone else snaps it up. He said he’ll be in the Lowtown Bazaar at night. _

_ Athenril _

“As always, it’s a bit vague on the details,” Hawke lamented with a soft sigh. “But we need the gold if we ever want to join that expedition, and buy back the family estate.”

“So we’ll go then?” Bethany asked.

“Yes. That gives us, what, a little over three hours? Tell mom we’re going to have to eat dinner early tonight. I’m going talk to Varric and see if he would be willing to provide some backup, just in case the job goes sideways. And they always seem to,” Hawke said.

“That’s a good idea. It definitely makes me feel safer knowing it won’t just be the two of us if we have to face the templars,” Bethany said.

“If you’re going out tonight, take that bloody dog with you,” Gamlen gruffed. “Her incessant _breathing_ is driving me mad.”

“Dogs pant Gamlen. Get over it,” Bethany said, returning just as much attitude and gruffness to Gamlen. “Don’t pay him any attention, Lady,” Bethany said, petting her sweetly on the head. Although, taking her with them was a good idea, Bethany thought.

“You know, maybe we should go to the Hanged Man a little early. Grab a drink before we go meet this guy in Lowtown?” Bethany asked.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be drinking before a job Bethany,” Hawke replied through the cracked bedroom door.

“Just one drink, Charlie. It’s been ages since we had a drink. I have just enough saved up for a few drinks,” she pleaded.

“Alright,” Hawke sighed. “Just one drink. I’m going to go over now to make sure that Varric is available, and willing, to join us. Then I need to grab the supplies mother asked me to pick up, and I’m going to drop by and see if Aveline might know of any work for us.”

“Weren’t you just there the other day?” Bethany asked.

“Yes, and Aveline will probably be annoyed. But we need the money, which means we have to keep barking up trees until we find jobs,” Hawke said. “I’ll meet you at the Hanged Man just before dusk, yes?”

“I’ll be there!” Bethany was glowing with joy, clearly very excited about the rare and special occasion of getting to enjoy a drink with her sister. Even if the ale at the Hanged Man tasted like piss.

~

“Bethany, there you are. What took you so long?” Hawke asked when Bethany sat down at a table by the fire inside the Hanged Man.

“Mother insisted that I help her run a few errands before I left, and then Gamlen was going on about how ungrateful we are, and how we can’t even clean up after ourselves,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous. The mess is all his,” Hawke.

“I know, but mother was tired of listening to him complain, so she begged me to clean up a little before I left. And then Jezra popped by. She heard there was an extra templar patrol this evening, and wanted to make sure I knew. It sounds like they’ve started to increase their patrols,” she said.

“Great. That’s all we need. More problems.” Hawke sighed.

“So did Varric agree to help us?” Bethany asked as she waved Norah, the waitress, over.

“Yes. He’s in a meeting right now, and … I don’t think it’s going very well. I keep hearing shouting. But he said he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, and welcomed a distraction after it was all over with,” Hawke said.

“Do you know who he’s meeting with?” Bethany asked, always the curious one.

“He didn’t offer, so I didn’t ask,” Hawke said. “Since he’s the overly chatty sort, if he withholds details, you know it’s because he doesn’t want to talk about it. Or can’t.”

“Have you seen Ivan here tonight?” Bethany asked looking around.

“Oh maker, don’t tell me you’re interested in him,” Hawke said.

“What’s wrong with Ivan?” Bethany whined.

“What’s _not_ wrong with him?” Hawke replied.

“That’s not fair,” Bethany chided. “For one, his mother is a mage so he understands the dangers I’m in. He protects her, and says he’d protect me too. Why can’t you just be supportive for once?” Bethany said, clearly very hurt by Hawke’s comments.

“I’m sorry Bethany. I am, actually, very glad to hear that he wants to protect you. It’s just, you could do so much better than him. He might be nice, but, he’s still a bit like scraping the bottom of a barrel,” Hawke said.

“Charlie. I’m … I’m not going to have many choices, like you. No one is going to want to be with an apostate. Not in Kirkwall.” Bethany stared into her mug. “Sometimes I wish I was never born a mage.”

“Don’t say that,” Hawke said curtly. “I’ve always wanted to be a mage like you and dad. I’ve always been jealous of what you’re able to do. You have a beautiful gift. But I am sorry Bethany. I know how terribly difficult the life of a mage is for you, particularly here.”

“I’m sorry it’s made your life difficult Charlie, always having to look after me,” Bethany said.

“Don’t ever apologize for that. You’re my sister, and I wouldn’t change you for the world. Now can we change the subject? We’ve already talked too much as it is, out here in public,” Hawke said.

Luckily for them both, the terribly attractive Varric had just descended the stairs after the conclusion of his … frustrating meeting.

“Ladies, what are we drinking tonight?” Varric asked and motioned to Norah as he sat down to join them.

“We’ve already had our drink, Varric” Hawke replied.

“What? One drink? Come on Hawke. Where’s your sense of adventure? I’m buying.”

He ordered a round for the three of them without waiting for Hawke’s response. Bethany looked at Hawke pleadingly, and Hawke just shook her head in defeat.

“How did your meeting go?” Bethany asked.

“Sunshine, let’s not talk about it. My head is already spinning from dealing with those knuckle heads,” Varric said. He accepted the mug from Norah, and took a deep swig. “So, Anso is in the Lowtown Bizarre?”

“That’s what the letter said. Do you know Anso, or have you heard of him at all?” Hawke said.

“I know the name, though not much else. He mostly operates in very small circles, so there simply isn’t much worth noting about him,” he said. “’Competent’ for the job, eh? Sounds like a mercenary gig if you ask me.”

“Most likely. Although considering he reached out to Athenril so it could just be a smuggle job,” Hawke said.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Varric downed the rest of his beer and waved at Norah to bring him another one. “One more before we head out.”

It was just an hour past dusk when they left the Hanged Man and headed down to the Bizarre just a few blocks away. ‘ _I wish Anso had wanted to meet at the Hanged Man_ ,’ Varric thought. ‘ _But that would be too convenient, wouldn’t it?_ ’

Anso was a dwarven man, and a nervous one at that. Mostly likely still new to the surface. It was a smuggle job, like Hawke said, but he needed Hawke as muscle, like Varric had said. Anso was trying to be coy about the details but it was obvious by the end of their conversation that the job was smuggling lyrium. Lyrium was a dangerous substance as it was, volatile and likely to detonate if not handled properly. But more than that, it was a highly profitable and highly controlled substance, which meant that most smugglers wanted it, and most of the others wanted to steal it. For the group that meant it was a dangerous job. Anso said that those he hired to smuggle it into the city decided to keep the goods. He needed Hawke to retrieve them for him. He gave Hawke an address in the alienage, the area of Kirkwall where the city elves lived. A sad place of utter squalor. And what do you know, surprise surprise. Hawke entered the abandoned hovel to find a group of mercenaries with weapons ready, and already trained on her - which is not advisable. Hawke did what she does best. Violence ensued. Guts were spilled. People died. When they finally located the chest of supposedly stolen lyrium, it was empty. They searched the house top to bottom - which didn’t take long as it was only a small hovel, but there was nothing there. They were forced to leave empty handed, to return to Anso with the unfortunate news. But they never made it that far. Upon exiting the abandoned house, they were attacked by another group. This time Tevinter slavers.

“That’s not the elf. Who is that?” A woman shouted. Lady growled in response to the woman.

“It doesn’t matter. We were told to kill whoever enters the house,” a man replied.

When the last of the screams had subsided and the dust was settling, while Hawke and Bethany were still looking over the dead bodies, that’s when he made his dramatic entrance.

“I don’t know who you are friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here. Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing. Now!” He yelled.

“Captain,” a poor sod squeaked out, drowning in his own blood before he crumbled to the ground.

“Your men are dead and your trap has failed. I suggest running to your master while you can.” An elf with a deep and sultry voice descended the steps.

“You’re going nowhere, slave!” the idiot Captain barked, to which the elf replied by suddenly glowing blue and putting his fist clear through the poor sod’s chest.

“I am not a slave,” the elf snarled.

The elf who stood before them was different than any elf they had ever seen before. He had unusual tattoos. And no, not the kind that the Dalish elves often tattooed on their faces. These were deep, bright white lines carved into his skin that ran over, what is presumed, his whole body. There was something dashing and mysterious about his appearance - with his tan olive skin, snow white and choppy hair, and those intense, brooding green eyes, spiked and dark colored armor, and a great sword slung across his back. He was actually taller and more broad-shouldered than most elves, a fact that was often missed due to the way he slouched.

“I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they would be so … numerous,” the elf said.

“You were responsible for this?” Hawke asked.

“I’m the reason you’re here, yes. My name is Fenris. These men were imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister’s lost property - namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely,” he said.

“That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave,” Hawke said.

“It is,” he replied.

“Does this have something to do with those markings?” Hawke asked.

“Yes,” Fenris said with slight chuckle. “I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave.”

“If you couldn’t fight them, why not just run?” Hawke asked.

“There comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger,” Fenris said.

“If they were really trying to recapture you, then I’m happy I helped,” Hawke said. Slavery was legal in Tevinter, but in Fereldan it was abhorred.

“I have met few in my travels who have sought anything more than personal gain,” Fenris said. “If I may ask, what was in the chest, the one they kept in the house?”

“It was empty,” Hawke said.

“Hm. I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know,” he said.

“You were expecting something else?” Hawke asked, or stated rather.

“I was but I shouldn’t have. It was bait. Nothing more,” he said.

“You know, you didn’t need to lie to get my help,” Hawke said.

“That remains to be seen,” he replied.

“It’s as I thought. My master has come for me, personally,” he said, retrieving something from the dead Captain’s pockets. “Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I’ve lost count. And before that he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom. I must stop him before he has a chance to get away.”

“Do you know where he is?” Hawke asked.

“I believe so. I will find a way to repay you, I swear it,” he promised.

And so Hawke, Bethany, and Varric went with Fenris to a mansion in Hightown where the magister was staying. They entered the house but encountered no mage or man, only demons sent to do his bidding. They searched every room, but only found corpses (the victims of blood magic), broken tiles, fallen paintings, dust, a few books - but no Danarius.

“It never ends,” Fenris lamented as they left the mansion. “I escaped a land of dark magic, only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul… . And now I find myself in the company of even more mages.”

“Do you mean me?” Bethany asked.

“I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were,” he said. “You harbor a viper in your midst,” he said, turning to Hawke. “It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature.”

“My _sister_ is no viper. And she has proven both her talent and her strength several times over,” Hawke fired back.

“I’m not blind. I know magic has its uses. And there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others,” Fenris brooded.

“Why would your master go through so much trouble, just retrieve one surly slave,” Hawke said flatly, her words laced with anger.

“He doesn’t want me at all, just the markings on my skin. They’re lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse.”

“That’s … awful,” Varric said. Fenris sighed and took a deep breath.

“I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised,” he said.

Hawke was surprised. After his outburst about mages … but he checked his temper, his rage. He apologized, thanked them though in a round-about way, and kept his promise of payment. She was none too happy about the comments he made about Bethany, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t understand his feelings toward mages, after what he had just told them about his former master.

“Fenris, I … I can’t accept all of this money,” Hawke said. “It was a job and I still have bills to pay, so I’ll accept half of it. But I can’t take all of the coin that you have. You still need to eat.”

“Hm. Interesting. Then allow me to offer my blade and my abilities. Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it,” he said.

“After all that about mages?” Hawke asked. “You wouldn’t have a problem working beside Bethany?

“I will watch her carefully, or any other mage, when we travel together. Trust is not a word I would apply, but I would ensure their safety as well as yours, provided that it is not they who endanger the group,” he said.

“You are definitely very skilled and well trained. I would be lying if I said I had no need of that, but I also don’t appreciate the way you treated my sister. It sounds like you may have reason to be distrustful of mages, but I will not allow you to speak ill of her, or put her in danger. If you think you could manage to hold your tongue, at the very least around her, and put aside your differences long enough to work as a team on a few jobs, then I could use your help. I would split the payments equally between us,” Hawke said.

“I can agree to that,” Fenris said. “For now, I plan on staying here at Danarius’ mansion, in case he decides to return and reclaim it. Should you need me, I shall be here.”

There weren’t many pleasantries to exchange, as the elf was not a very happy man it seemed. But they bid each other good night and went their separate ways.

“I didn’t like him much,” Bethany said as they walked back to Lowtown.

“He certainly has no love for mages,” Varric said.

“I can’t believe he insulted Bethany so completely after we had just helped me. But, I’m equally surprised that he did apologize and he did pay us. I can’t help but feel bad for him. Given what he said about his former master, he certainly has reason to be distrustful of mages. However, that doesn’t mean he can take it out on all mages.”

“If what he said is even true,” Bethany said.

“I suppose he could be lying,” Varric said. “But … I think he was genuinely telling the truth. Though it’s a bit unusual for someone to be so open about their traumatic past to complete strangers.”

“It’s a form of defense,” Hawke said solemnly. “I’ve seen it before, in other soldiers.”

“Hmm,” Varric replied.

“He’s definitely very skilled, I’ll give him that,” Bethany said.

“He would definitely be a help on some of these jobs,” Varric said.

“I agree. It would be nice to have another sword fighting alongside me,” Hawke said.

“You ladies up for a few more drinks?” Varric asked.

“Sure. I could use another drink, or five,” Hawke laughed.

“Can we play Wicked Grace again?” Bethany asked. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

~

It had been a few weeks, but Hawke had only been able to find smaller jobs. Aveline had managed to hand a few her way, but nothing ever goes as planned and too many of their “employers” ran off before they could get paid. Meanwhile, Leandra was going crazy cooped up in the house all day with no job.

“Leandra, what are we going to do with all of this?” Gamlen shouted. “This won’t keep!”

“I … I got a bit out of hand,” she replied. “But what else am I supposed to do all day?”

“Wow mother,” Bethany said in surprise when she entered the kitchen. “That’s a lot of sweet bread.”

“And muffins,” Gamlen. “Did you use all the flour???” He asked, looking frantic.

“I will buy some more tomorrow,” Leandra said.

“With what coin, woman?!” Gamlen shouted.

“Calm down, for Maker’s sake,” Hawke said. “I have enough coin for more flour. I’ll go today, so please calm down. And I can take some of this Varric and Aveline. I’m sure they would appreciate it.”

Leandra wrapped the sweet bread, muffins, and supper rolls up in a worn towel, and placed them in the largest basket they had. Hawke stopped by Varric’s first, and dropped off half of the baked goods. He was more than pleased to accept them. Hawke picked up more flour and sugar in the Lowntown market, before she continued her journey to Hightown, and the guard barracks.

“Hawke, that is very sweet of you, but I can’t take this. It’s too much,” Aveline said.

“What?” Hawke asked, looking at the basket.

“I’m … I’m on a diet,” Aveline confessed.

“What on earth for?” Hawke said.

“My uniform has been … a little tight recently,” Aveline said. “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. I’ll accept two muffins, and nothing more.”

“What am I going to do with the rest of this?” Hawke asked.

“Take it home?” Aveline suggested.

“Gamlen will kill me if I do. There’s already a lot more still sitting in the kitchen,” Hawke explained.

“What about that man you helped a few weeks ago, what was his name?” Aveline said.

“Fenris?” Hawke asked. “Yes, actually. I don’t think he has much coin or belongings. He could probably really use this.”

“See, there ya go,” Aveline said. “But thank you. It is very sweet of you to offer. And they do smell lovely.” Hawke waved good bye to Aveline.

Hawke left the barracks and turned the corner up to Fenris’ street, and stopped in front of his mansion. Or at least she thought it was his. She walked up and down the street once, to make sure this was the correct house. It was always night when she stopped at his house, and everything looked so different. When she was finally sure she had the correct house, she knocked loudly. She waited for several minutes, but there was no reply. She knocked again, and wondered if maybe he was out at the moment. She was about to knock one final time, when Fenris opened the door.

“Oh, Hawke. It’s you,” he said. “I thought perhaps it was someone who had the wrong address.”

“I brought you some baked goods,” Hawke said. “My mother went a bit wild this morning, and baked far more than we could eat before it all goes bad.”

“I’m sorry Hawke. I do not have enough coin for these,” he replied.

“Oh, no,” Hawke said. “No, I’m not asking you to buy them. They’re free.” He stared blankly at her. “A gift,” she explained further.

Fenris looked at Hawke without a word, just looking at her for several moments. “I don’t understand. Why would you give me a gift?”

“As I said, we have more than we can eat. It would go to waste otherwise. And I thought you might enjoy some. I already took some to Varric and Aveline as well,” Hawke explained.

“Surely your mother could sell the extra. Surely you could use the coin,” he said.

“I …. I suppose so,” Hawke said. His response was a shock to say the least. It was obvious that he wasn’t used to receiving gifts, and she was doing a bad job trying to explain it. “But I… it’s meant to be a gift. A gesture of kindness. Being on the run has to be difficult, and I can’t imagine that it pays very well.”

“That is an accurate estimation,” Fenris said. “I just do not understand what would have prompted such generosity. They generally come with strings attached.”

“String free, I promise. Wouldn’t be very good for the digestion anyway,” Hawke said. Fenris stifled a short chuckle. “Truly it’s just a gift, simple as that.”

“I … I don’t know what to say,” Fenris said. Hawke handed him the whole basket and he accepted it. “Thank you,” he said.

“We’re going to start having weekly meetings,” Hawke said, “at the Hanged Man in Lowtown, if you’d like to join us.”

“Weekly meetings?” Fenris asked.

“Oh, to discuss what jobs there might be, and pick which ones to accept, see who is available, that sort of thing,” Hawke said.

“Sounds productive,” Fenris said. “Count me in.”

The “weekly meeting” was not as productive as Fenris had expected, given its title. It was mostly a time for everyone to get together and blow off steam, tell some stories, and play cards. But they did also discuss possible jobs and who was interested or available for them. Aveline didn’t join as much as the others. She had a real job, as she liked to remind Hawke. Though hesitant at first, Fenris almost always attended. Poor kid was lonely, plus he needed the money. After the first job he joined, he was shocked that Hawke actually divided the money equally between all of them. Typically, the leader took a larger cut, he said. It wasn’t much, but he was slowly making a living. And maybe even making some friends.


	3. Blondie

The next to join their party was yet another mage, much to Fenris’ brooding dismay. But he wasn’t just any mage. Anders, the hunk of Darktown. The healer with a heart of gold, and a bad case of spirit possession. Blondie made all the girls swoon. He was a bit rash, but even Sunshine found herself quickly forgetting about Lowtown Ivan.

You would think that his extraordinary healing abilities are what led Hawke to Anders, particularly given the dangerous line of work she was in, but that wasn’t the case. The Deep Roads expedition needed to find a way in, a good entrance to be precise. One that wasn’t already looted, caved in, or overflowing with Darkspawn, and the only group who would know the Deep Roads well enough in that area would be the Grey Wardens. Varric heard rumors about a Grey Warden who was hiding out in Darktown. Hawke and the group went to meet him, to see what he would be willing to trade for any information, or better yet, a map.

The clinic was located in the farthest corner of Darktown, which you could only find after navigating a series of tunnels, turns, switch backs, and stairs. It was easy to miss the right turn, or not see one entirely due to the dim lighting in Darktown. They had to ask a number of Darktown residents, many who refused to help, before they finally found it. A bright lantern lit up the front entrance. Hawke cautiously opened the door and quietly stepped inside. The clinic was surprisingly crowded, and nearly all of the occupants were Fereldan refugees. A few volunteer nurses scurried about, helping patients and directing others. But there was no sign of the man in charge, and certainly nothing that would indicate that a Grey Warden was hiding there.

“I sense magic,” Bethany whispered. “One of these people must be a mage healer.”

Finally they saw a man in the back. Tall, broad shoulder, blonde hair that just a few inches shorter than his shoulder. He was definitely a mage; he was bent over a small child waving his hands over the boy’s body. Visible, soft green glowing magic wrapped itself around the boy and flooded his body. The blonde man manipulated the current of the flowing magic, pushing it, pulling it, clutching it. Searching for something. He found it, and grabbed onto it, and tugged at it with all his might. Slowly but surely he dislodged it from the boy’s body. The boy gasped for air, coughed, and turned onto his side, color returning to his face. The blonde man exhaled loudly and nearly collapsed. Another volunteer braced him as the healer worked to catch his breath.

The group approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt his work. But the man sensed them, and smelled the thick scent of blood and death that permeated them - most notably Hawke. The scent that only soldiers, mercenaries, and professional killers had. He moved surprisingly quickly, like lighting he whisked a staff, hidden from view, into the air, and gracefully pivoted on his heels to face them.

“I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation,” he said to them. “Why do you threaten it?”

“Easy,” Hawke said, slowly putting her hands in the air. “We mean you no harm.”

“I thought Wardens were dedicated to the blight and dying in the Deep Roads,” Bethany said. “Not healing refugees.”

“The Wardens? They sent you, didn’t they? I’m _not_ going back,” Anders said. “Blighters made me get rid of my cat.”

“Wait, _that_ _’s_ the reason you’re not wanting going back to the Wardens? Not the taint or the constant violence and death?” Varric laughed.

“Ser Pounce-a-lot didn’t like the Deep Roads,” Anders joked.

“His name was Ser Pounce-a-lot?” Bethany giggled.

“Er, I assure you, we’re not here on behalf of the Wardens. We are planning an expedition to the Deep Roads, and are hoping you might have some information or better yet, a map, of the routes in this area. Any information you have could help save many lives,” Hawke said.

“I will die a happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again,” he said. “You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through to get here.”

“I’m not asking you to come with us,” Hawke said. “But surely you have some information that would be useful to us? We’ll pay you well for your information.”

“I could smell death on you as soon as you drew near,” Anders said. “Based on that, plus your armor and stature, am I correct in assuming that you’re mercenaries or something similar? And at least somewhat successful, since you’re not dead yet?”

“Ah, yes, something like that,” Hawke said, a little confused as why he wanted to know. And also surprised to hear the bit about her smelling like death. That was unsettling for sure.

“But we’re good mercenaries,” Bethany said. “We help people.” What a beautifully innocent flower she was.

“I … have need of your skill,” Anders said, “more than your coin. A favor for a favor? Does that sound like a fair trade? You help me, I’ll help you?”

“Ah, perhaps. Depending on what your favor is,” Hawke said. “I don’t do anything involving children or animals,” she joked.

“I have a map of the Deep Roads of this area, as you’ve requested. In return, I need your help to save a close friend. I came to Kirkwall to aid him myself. He’s a mage, a prisoner in the wretched Gallows. But the templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and the map is yours,” he said.

“You want me to help break a mage out of the circle??” Hawke asked, shocked. Honestly, the price she thought was too steep and not a fair trade for the map.

“You want to make your friend an apostate?” Bethany asked.

“That’s such a weighted term, but yes,” Anders replied. “Andraste said magic should serve man, not rule him. But I’ve yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Hawke said. “But … breaking a mage out of the circle is no small ask. And we can’t afford any undue attention from the templars ourselves.”

“I can understand that,” Anders said. “But you don’t know what this circle is like. It’s worse than other mage towers. Karl and I have been exchanging letters, until the letters just stopped. His last letter said that Knight Commander Meredith was turning the circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made tranquil for the slightest of crimes.”

“But it’s not legal to make a mage tranquil if they’ve passed their harrowing,” Hawke said.

“You are surprisingly knowledgeable about mages,” Anders said.

“Our father was one,” Bethany said. “As … as am I,” she bravely stated.

“I see. You’re correct though,” Anders said. “And yet they’ve made over a dozen mages tranquil just this year. The more people you talk to, the worse the picture becomes. I have no interest in engaging with the templars either, and I don’t expect there to be any violent confrontation, but neither can I rule it out.”

“Varric, can I talk to you for a moment?” Hawke asked. The two stepped aside to have a private word.

“How badly do we need his maps? Is there no other way?” Hawke asked.

“I’m not too keen on this either,” Varric said. “But all of our other leads have turned up shit so far. Honestly, I think the entire expedition is a bust without his maps.”

“Fuck,” Hawke said. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Bethany excused herself from speaking with Anders, and joined Hawke and Varric.

“Charlie, I know it’s risky. And it makes me nervous, but, I’d like to help him if we can,” Bethany said.

“We don’t really have a choice it seems,” Hawke said. “But I’m really not a fan of this. And you’re certainly not coming with us when we do this.”

“Charlie, please. I want to help,” Bethany said.

“Out of the question. I will not blatantly dangle you in front of templars,” Hawke said.

“I feel for your friend, I really do,” Hawke said walking back over to Anders.

“So you won’t help me then?” He asked.

“Unfortunately I need your map, rather desperately it seems. So I find myself without any other option but to help you. But if my sister ends up in danger because of you, if this brings the templars to our front door step, you had better _run_ ,” Hawke warned.

“Understandable,” Anders said.

“What is the plan then?” Hawke asked, and sighed heavily.

“I sent Karl a message to meet me at the Chantry tonight. Maker willing, he’ll be there, alone. But if there are templars with him, I swear I’ll free him from them. Whatever the cost,” Anders said.

“Sounds like this will be fun,” Varric said sarcastically.

“Meet me outside the chantry tonight, just after dusk,” Anders said. “Should anything go wrong, don’t worry about me. Protect yourselves and we’ll rendezvous back here later.”

Nothing ever goes as planned. That’s a written-in-stone law of the universe. How badly things deviate from the plan though, well, Hawke never seemed to have much luck in that area. They had entered the Chantry together that night, and found Karl without problem or reason for concern. And that’s as far as the things went according to the plan.

“Hello, Anders,” Karl said. He was facing the wall and his voice was flat, mono tone, completely devoid of emotion, of any feeling at all. “I knew you would come.”

“Karl, what’s wrong? Why are you talking like that?” Anders asked, fearing the worst.

“I was too rebellious, like you. The templars knew I had to be … made an example of,” Karl said, turning around to reveal the tranquil mark on his forehead.

“No.” Anders grieved.

“How else will mages ever master themselves? You’ll understand, Anders,” Karl continued, “As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself.”

It was a good thing that Hawke had refused to bring Bethany along - a small group of templars stepped out of the shadows as Karl finished speaking.

“This is the apostate,” Karl indicated toward Anders, still in that chilling, unfeeling tone.

“No!” Anders screamed. Anders fell to the floor and his body twitched. The was a sudden pulse of energy and his body glowed with blue fire, and his voice deepened and echoed. “You will never take another mage as you took him!” Anders bellowed.

The poor templars were no match for Hawke. More accurately, they were no match for Anders and all his wrath. They made short work of the few of templars, blood absolutely everywhere. All over the Chantry walls and tapestries, and the worn wooden pews.

“A-Anders, what did you do?” Karl asked, looking around confused. “It’s like … you brought a piece of the fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like.”

“What _did_ you do?” Hawke asked. “Not the fade part - the angry glowing bit.”

“It’s like a gateway to the fade is inside you, glowing like a beacon,” Karl said.

“It’s a … unique circumstance,” Anders said. “But that’s not important right now. Karl, what happened? How did they get you?”

“The templars here are far more vigilant than in Fereldan. They found a letter I was writing to you. You cannot imagine it Anders. All the color, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic, but this? I’ll never be whole again. Please, kill me before I forget again! I don’t know how you brought it back, but it’s fading,” Karl said.

“Karl, no,” Anders pleaded.

“Isn’t there any cure? Surely there has to be a way to reverse it?” Hawke asked. She had never heard of one, and the circles certainly would never approve, but they were already working outside the circle. Surely someone had a way to reverse it?

“Can you cure a beheading?” Anders asked angrily. “The dreams of tranquil mages are severed - forever.”

“Please Anders,” Karl begged.

“My sister says being a tranquil is a fate worse than death,” Hawke said softly.

“Indeed,” Anders agreed. Anders pulled out a small dagger. He looked into Karl’s face, the fade quickly receding, and Anders plunged the dagger into his heart. “Goodbye,” he mourned.

Karl crumpled to the floor.

“We should probably get out of here, before more templars arrive,” Varric suggested. They didn’t waste any time leaving the Chantry before anyone could discover who had murdered their templars.

Once back at the clinic, Anders pulled out a bitch of parchment. “The map is yours,” Anders said. Sorrow consumed his voice, his eyes, his whole body. He handed them over gently. “I … I need to be alone for a while. But thank you. You don’t know how much it means to me, that you were willing to help.”

Varric had his men begin reviewing them immediately. It wouldn’t be long before they identified one of the entrances on the map as the one to use. But they still had yet to collect the money they needed to convince Bartrand.

~

Hawke and Bethany returned to Anders clinic a few days later. Bethany thought it would be good if they checked up on him, after losing such a close friend.

“Hawke, Bethany,” Anders said a bit surprised when they stepped into the clinic.

“We wanted to come see how you were doing,” Hawke said. “I’m so sorry that things turned out like they did. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“It still … doesn’t seem real,” Anders said. “And I keep finding myself forgetting. I’ll think about how it’s strange that I still haven’t received a letter, or I’ll have a stray thought about something I want to include in a letter to him.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Bethany asked.

“You’re too kind,” Anders said. “Especially … especially after what you saw.”

“You mean when you glowed?” Hawke said. She had actually forgotten all about it.

“I mentioned that I have unique circumstances,” Anders said. “They are more unique than you may realize. I … this is hard to explain. When I was in Amaranthine, when I was with the Wardens, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustices that mages in Thedas face every day.”

“A spirit of Justice?” Bethany asked. “Father said that such spirits were incredibly rare.”

“How are they different from demons?” Hawke asked.

“Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are benevolent spirits who embody our virtues; spirits of compassion, fortitude … justice. They are the Maker’s first children, and they have all but given up on us,” Anders explained.

“What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?” Hawke asked, feeling more and more nervous about where this conversation was going.

“To live outside the fade, the spirit of Justice needed … a host,” Anders said. “I … I offered to help him. We were going to work together, to bring justice to every mage ever ripped away from their families to be sent to the circle.”

“Are you saying … what I think you’re saying?” Hawke asked, now very weary of the man in front of her.

“But he … I … I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he … changed,” Anders said.

“You’re … possessed,” Bethany gasped. Hawke instinctively took a half step back.

“So this spirit is living inside you still?” Hawke asked.

“It’s … not like that. He’s gone now. He … we merged. Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and where he begins,” Anders said.

“I’ve … I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Bethany said. “Normally when possessed, the demon completely overpowers and consumes the host,” she said turning to Hawke.

“That may be, but … whatever I saw back at the Chantry, looked more like a spirit of wrath and fury, than some form of benevolent spirit,” Hawke said.

“Justice is righteous, hard, unmoving. But with my anger, he changed. He is no longer my friend, the spirit of justice. Now he is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy,” Anders said.

“That sounds like a rather considerable, and dangerous problem,” Hawke said. “Is there no way to separate him from you?”

“I don’t think so. The only way a spirit has ever been separated from a living host is by its death,” Anders lamented. “This curse is of my own making. All I can do now is hope to control it.”

“Can you bring the spirit out at will?” Bethany asked.

“No. He comes only when I become consumed by my anger, and I lose power over both. It’s a madness, a frenzy. I only find out later, what I might have done,” he explained.

“That does explain a lot,” Hawke said. “Particularly why you hide here in Darktown, and why you work so hard to care for others.”

“I’m so sorry Anders,” Bethany said.

“I had not thought to ever find someone who would look past my … condition,” Anders said.

“Look past … I wouldn’t state it quite like that. You must understand, you said yourself that the spirit is dangerous. That makes me very uneasy. But it’s obvious that you have some control over it. A great deal of control it would seem, that you’re not rampaging in the streets daily. But you also have a very big heart and have only sought to help others,” Hawke replied.

“Your honesty is refreshing, and still far more than I could have hoped for,” Anders said. “I truly have no desire to ever enter the Deep Roads again, but I’m here if you ever need me.”

“You don’t have to join us for the actual expedition,” Hawke said. “But we also need to secure enough gold to pay for the expedition. Which usually means taking a number of dangerous jobs, which means injuries. We could certainly use a healer.”

“I know a little healing magic,” Bethany said. “But it’s nothing like your healing abilities.”

“I could teach you,” Anders said. “And I could always use more help here in the clinic.”

“I would really like that,” Bethany said, and she blushed slightly.

Hawke invited Anders to their weekly meetings, and Anders discussed times that he could spend training Bethany.

Between all the healing they needed, working together on jobs, and Sunshine's little crush, they saw a bit of the Darktown healer.


	4. The Blood of City Guards

“Hawke, can’t you do anything about the thugs that roam the streets at night?” Aveline asked. The Hanged Man buzzed with life around - a typical Friday night.

“The guard isn’t able to?” Hawke asked.

“There aren’t enough of us to handle them all. Plus the Captain doesn’t have the balls to deal with them. It’s something that you could handle though,” she said.

“Is the Captain offering a reward?” Hawke asked.

“Isn’t the safety of the citizens reward enough?” Aveline said.

“Aveline, I need to eat too. And unfortunately, being a hero doesn’t pay well. Not usually anyhow. I do often deal with them whenever I can, but I can’t spend my nights traipsing around in the night like some sort of vigilante,” Hawke replied.

“Sure you could Hawke. If anyone could, it’d be you.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence Aveline. But unless you’re willing to pay my bills, it’s not something I can just do for free,” Hawke said.

“I suppose not,” Aveline sighed.

“Why won’t the Captain handle them?” Fenris asked, downing his fifth drink.

“I don’t know. Anytime I try to bring it up I get half-assed excuses. And then I get put on pointless patrols as punishment for questioning his authority,” Aveline said. “In fact, there’s an issue that I’m still investigating but Hawke, I may need your help soon. And I expect you to give it, even without pay.”

“Sure Aveline,” Hawke sighed. She felt much the same way as Aveline did, but bills don’t pay themselves. And she didn’t like it when Aveline made her feel guilty about not helping unless there was pay. What Aveline didn’t know is how many jobs Hawke did take and either refused the reward in the end, or how she often gave the money back to the victims or to the refugees. Much like with Fenris, Hawke couldn’t accept a reward if they clearly needed it more than her. Bethany had to take up some side jobs to help because of it, and no one was happy about that. While her side jobs didn’t involve magic, it still meant that Bethany was out in public more than anyone wanted. On the other hand, being seen doing jobs like tailoring or washing was a good cover story, a good way to more-or-less hide what she truly was.

“So Sunshine, I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time at Anders’ clinic recently?” Varric asked - to which Fenris visibly bristled.

“Yes,” Bethany blushed slightly. “He’s been teaching me a lot about healing magic, and I’ve been helping out there as much as I can.”

“Shame he couldn’t join us tonight,” Varric said.

“He asked me to pass his apologies to Charlie. He said he was just too worn out. It’s been a hard couple of days since one of the Darktown tunnels collapsed. He’s had so many wounded to look after,” Bethany said.

“So Hawke, what’s the job this week?” Fenris asked.

“I grabbed a job from the Chanter’s Board,” Hawke said.

“Oh, I do hate it when you do that,” Bethany whined. “They just … somehow they just never feel right.”

“I’m not a big fan of them either, but I haven’t heard from Athenril about any other possible jobs. Neither has Varric. It’s been a quiet couple of weeks, and we still need to eat - let alone try to save money for the expedition,” Hawke explained.

“What is the Chantry asking this time?” Fenris asked, beginning to look a little flush from the alcohol.

“It’s …” Hawke paused and looked at Bethany. “There are some mages that have disappeared from the Circle. Their phylacteries have been destroyed, and there have been a number of related deaths. Blood magic.”

“The templars aren’t able to handle this? Isn’t this exactly what they do?” Aveline asked.

“That was my thought. But since the phylacteries have been destroyed, they haven’t been able to track them down. I’m honestly not sure why they’ve handed the task over, but I’ll take it.” Hawke said.

“Hunting mages,” Bethany whispered.

“Blood mages. If they weren’t blood mages, if they hadn’t already killed a few people, I wouldn’t accept the job. Not all mages are bad, but the ones that go bad - they do need to be dealt with,” Hawke said softly. She clearly felt very torn on the matter, and who could blame her.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out, if that’s ok sis?” Bethany asked.

“Of course Bethany,” Hawke replied

“I’m pretty booked this week,” Aveline said. “I’ve got double guard duty, plus I still need to continue my investigation.”

“I guess it’s just the three of us then,” Varric said.

“Sounds fine by me,” Fenris replied and stifled a burp.

“Good. Now that business is out of the way,” Varric smiled. “Time for a few rounds of Wicked Grace.”

“No, I’m out,” Aveline said.

“Oh, come on Aveline,” Varric said.

“No, I have work in the morning. Anders-,” She said. “I thought you weren’t going to be able to make it.”

“I tried to take a nap, but couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might as well join everyone,” he said. He took Aveline’s seat next Hawke.

“I’ll see everyone next week,” Aveline said before she turned and left.

“Blondie, you ready to lose another game of Wicked Grace?” Varric asked.

“Oh Maker,” Anders said. “I gave up trying to take a nap for this?”

~

It had been a few days, and Aveline’s investigation had turned up some useful information. She was able to use the time spent on her useless patrols to sort through it all, and to come up with a plan.

“Hawke, you and Bethany will join me to scout the Wounded Coast?” Aveline asked.

“Yep, we’re all set. Have you heard from Fenris yet?” Hawke asked.

“No. I sent a note to his … home, but I haven’t heard anything back. I don’t have time to drop by and ask if he’ll be available. Could you do that for me?” Aveline asked.

“Sure. I have some errands to run in Hightown anyway,” Hawke said.

“Alright. But don’t be late,” Aveline said.

“I won’t be late, I promise,” Hawke said.

Hawke paid a visit to Fenris’s home before she completed her other errands. It was still early morning. Hawke and Bethany, and hopefully Fenris, were set to meet Aveline an hour after noon. It would take some time to get to the Wounded Coast, so Hawke needed to get her errands done soon and speak to Fenris as soon as possible. Hawke had only been to Fenris’s home a few times. These days she mostly saw him at their weekly meetings, and when everyone showed up for a job. The mansion, Danarius’ mansion, was still empty and disheveled.

Hawke banged on the door loudly and waited. The knock boomed throughout the rather empty house. Fenris heard it but wasn’t sure if it was a knock, or just some commotion outside. Hawke knocked again.

“Hawke. What are you doing here so early?” Fenris asked, and he opened the door. The morning sunlight blinded him, and his hair was still uncombed.

“Aveline asked me to check in with you, since she didn’t get a reply to her note,” Hawke said.

“Ah, yes.” Fenris opened the door and stepped aside, beckoning Hawke to enter. He shut the door behind her, and together they walked to the master bedroom - which also served as the dining room and living room for Fenris.

“I apologize that I did not reply, but in truth, I wasn’t sure who sent it,” he said.

“That’s not like Aveline to leave it unsigned,” Hawke said.

“I’m afraid that the fault likely does not fall to her,” and he paused. “It’s simply that I do not know how to read. Slaves are not allowed to read in Tevinter.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize,” Hawke said, feeling awful for not knowing, feeling awful that she just assumed - but mostly feeling awful about his entire life. Hawke never felt sure about how to treat Fenris. She knew he didn’t want her pity, nor did she. But the suffering of others pained her greatly, particularly those she considered friends. Knowing what little she did about Fenris’s time as a slave, weighed on her. She wished there was something she could do, but knew that there wasn’t. And knew that Fenris was still guarded and not ready to open up.

“And now it’s too late,” Fenris said matter-of-factly and shrugged.

“Why is it too late?” Hawke asked.

“I’m a grown man, an ex-slave with no money, and I’m still not free of Danarius yet,” he replied.

“I don’t know if I would be very good at it, but I could teach you to read,” Hawke offered.

“You would?” Fenris said surprised. “It _would_ mean that I don’t have to rely on others as much. Yes, thank you Hawke. I would like to learn. However, this isn’t why you came by. What is it that Aveline needs?”

“Aveline needs help scouting the Wounded Coast. This isn’t her patrol, but she found out that several guards have recently died on what should have been routine patrols, and she has information about caravans being attacked - yet the Captain does nothing. She’s asked us to help her. Bethany & Varric are meeting us there too.”

“When does she need our help?” Fenris asked.

“Today. Just a little after noon,” Hawke said.

“That doesn’t leave us much time to get changed into our gear. Let me grab something to eat and put my gear on, and I’ll meet you in Lowtown just in front of the Hanged Man,” Fenris said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hawke said.

“And later we can discuss when might be a good time for some reading lessons,” Fenris said.

~

The investigation turned out to include very little fact finding, and a tremendous amount of fighting. A large group had lay in wait to ambush a caravan, but instead found themselves ambushing Hawke and her companions.

“Varric, are you feeling a bit under the weather?” Hawke shouted as she swung her great sword in a wide arc, knocking back two raiders.

“Come again, Hawke?” Varric asked.

“You just seem to be moving a bit slower is all,” Hawke shouted, turning and giving him a grin after she felled another raider.

“Haha, is that what you think? I’ve gotten five already, how about you Hawke? Last I counted you had three,” Varric said, firing another round.

“That last one was four,” Hawke said, rushing at a group that was getting too close to Bethany. “Five …. Six,” Hawke panted.

“Seriously?” Aveline shouted.

“Ah come on, Aveline. Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition,” Varric said.

“You say that now. You won’t be enjoying yourselves as much when you start counting the number that I’ve taken down,” Aveline shot back.

“Hahaha, touche,” Varric laughed.

“I just got another!” Bethany shouted with joy. “I’ve gotten three!”

“Nicely done Sunshine,” Varric said.

As light as their banter was however, the situation was grim. They were heavily outnumbered and the raiders were well trained and well-armed. The fight began in Hawke’s favor but they quickly lost any advantage they had over them. Fernis ripped out hearts as often as he could, but it significantly drained him. Bethany’s mana reserves were running low, and the raiders still had a number of expertly skilled archers. Hawke took them out one by one, until the numbers were even and the remaining raiders retreated. The group was too exhausted and banged up to give chase.

“Sunshine!” Varric yelled as the dust settled and the group began inspecting their condition.

“I’m … alright,” Bethany said, panting, bleeding, and using her staff as a crutch.

“Bethany!” Hawke yelled, and rushed to her side. Bethany had a sizable wound in her left side. They bandaged it as best as they could, which was in fact quite poorly.

“Let’s see what the Captain has to say about this!” Aveline shouted in rage as they rushed back to the city. Fenris carried Bethany to Anders’ clinic in Darktown.

“How are you doing Bethany?” Hawke asked.

“I’ll be fine Charlie, really. Well, at least after Anders has patched me up,” Bethany said.

“I’m sorry. I should be have drawn them away from you sooner,” Fenris said.

“Thanks Fenris, but it’s not your fault. I let myself get distracted,” she said.

They hurried into Anders’ clinic and Fenris laid her down on one of the open cots. “Where’s Anders?” Hawke asked one of the nurses.

“He said he needed to gather some more herbs. But that was some time ago. I’m sure he’ll be back very soon,” she said.

“Hawke, you’re bleeding,” Fenris said looking at blood dripping from her arm.

“It’s nothing serious,” Hawke said. “A bandage and I’ll be all good to go.” Fenris helped Hawke unhook the armor on her right arm so the wound could be dressed.

“Sis, how did you get injured?” Bethany asked, wincing. The nurse had already began taking a look at the wound in her side.

“One of those archers was a damned sniper,” Hawke said. “He managed to find a sliver of an opening in my armor.”

“Aveline. Hawke …” Anders said as he entered the clinic. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine. Bethany is the one who needs your attention,” Hawke said.

Anders set down his basket and moved quickly to Bethany’s cot. Aveline marched off to confront the Captain about her findings, while Hawke & Fenris waited. It took some time to fully attend to Bethany’s wound. It was worse than Bethany had led them to believe. Anders nearly collapsed when he was finished.

“Anders, are you alright?” Hawke said, catching him before he fell to the ground, and wincing from the pain in her arm.

“Hawke, you’re hurt too,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. You rest easy. I can come by tomorrow,” Hawke said.

“No.” Anders said firmly and began tending to the arrow wound in her right arm. “We can’t risk it getting infected, and this I can address with minimal magic.”

“How ya doing Sunshine?” Varric asked, leaning over Bethany.

“Much better now. Thank you, Anders,” Bethany said, slowly sitting up. Anders didn’t seem to hear her. He was too absorbed in stitching up Hawke’s arm.

“I think I need a drink after that fight,” Varric said.

“Me too,” Hawke agreed, wincing as Anders finished up with her arm.

“Me three,” Fenris added, never taking his eyes off Anders.

“Bethany should stay the night here,” Anders said. “She’s not healed enough to move yet, and I need to keep an eye on that wound.”

“Alright,” Hawke said with a sigh. “Guess we’re spending the night here.” Anders startled slightly at Hawke’s words, surprised to hear that Hawke was planning on staying too.

“Sis, you don’t need to stay. I’ll be alright,” Bethany said.

“Bethany, I am not leaving you here by yourself. It’s not safe,” Hawke said.

“Anders is good in a fight. And I’m not dead. We can protect ourselves if we need to,” she said. Bethany was eager for the alone time with Anders. Particularly the idea of sleeping in close proximity to him.

“Bethany, I would never forgive myself if the templars came for you or if a band of thugs decided to pay the clinic a visit. It’s just one night, I’ll manage, even if I have to sleep on the ground,” Hawke said.

“Then …,” Anders cleared his throat. “It’s decided. I’ll find some more blankets and I’ll get the stew going.”

“Don’t worry about feeding me,” Hawke said. “I’m going to grab some food at the Hanged Man with these guys, but I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Varric & Fenris started to head out while Hawke was finishing saying good-bye to her sister.

“What’s with the extra broody look, elf?” Varric asked.

“It’s nothing, dwarf,” Fenris spat.

“Let’s get that drink!” Hawke said walking up behind them, and putting one hand on each of their shoulders.

~

“So, roughing it in Darktown for the night Hawke?” Varric asked. “I do not envy you. That stench.”

“Yeah. It’ll take me days to get the smell out of my hair,” Hawke said, taking her hair down. The fight had already royally tangled it. Half of it was still in a bun, and the other half seemed to be doing whatever the hell it pleased. Her hair fell to just above her waist when she had finished wrangling it all free of the tattered, leather tie.

“Anders has managed to defend himself and evade the templars this long, I’m sure that Bethany will be safe for one night at the clinic,” Fenris said.

“I can’t take that risk. If anything happened to her, mother would never forgive me. _I_ would never forgive me,” Hawke said. She finally picked up her mug and took a good long sip.

“You know, I think Sunshine was hoping for some alone time with Anders,” Varric said.

“What?!” Hawke spewed her beer all over the table.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how she looks at him, and how much time she spends with him?” Varric said.

“He’s just a mentor! A fellow mage,” Hawke said.

“You know Hawke, I’m a little surprised that you don’t approve. Could it be that you‘re jealous?” Varric said raising one eye brow.

“Varric. What is with this barrage of assaults?” Hawke asked, still coughing beer out of her lungs. “I don’t think of Anders like that. And as for Bethany, I just.” Hawke starred wide eyed at the bottom of her empty mug. Anders seemed like a great guy, but he was possessed. She wanted better for her sister.

“No one will ever be good enough for her, eh?” Varric asked.

“Something like that,” Hawke said. “Ugh, I’m going to need more beer if I’m going to get through the night with Bethany fawning over Anders. Shit. Thanks Varric,” Hawke said sarcastically, with an extra dose of venom.

“Haha, don’t shoot the messenger kid. I’m pretty sure everyone else knows, except possibly Anders himself. I can never tell with him,” Varric said.

“The fool is clueless,” Fenris said into his mug.

“So Hawke, you’ve never told me if you left any lovers back in Fereldan,” Varric said. Hawke just barely managed to keep herself from spitting out her beer this time.

“Lovers?! Hahaha,” Hawke laughed. “Oh Maker no!” Hawke howled with laughter.

“None, at all?” Varric asked.

“What, in my whole life? Sure, there have been a few guys. But it’s been ages. Years. Andraste’s holy knickers, how long has it been??!” Asked out loud.

“You’re an attractive woman Hawke. Why so few lovers? Just can’t find any that hold up to your standards?” Varric asked.

“Hm. I supposed that’s part of it. Most of it is simply how incredibly awkward I am around men, at least in the romantic sense. I’ve been told that it’s painful to watch me try to flirt. And when someone tries to flirt with me? Haha. I just blaze forward in the conversation, racing right past the flirt or the compliment, completely ignoring it. Beyond that, most men aren’t interested in a woman who can wield a great sword. Maybe for a night of two. And that was fun when I was younger, but that lifestyle just isn’t me,” Hawke said and took another sip. “Bethany has always been the one to attract attention, real suitors I mean. She knows … she knows how to talk to men. She knows how to flirt, and how to wear dresses. She understands make-up and perfume, and how to do fancy things with her hair.”

“Haha, talking to men is easy Hawke. And so is wearing dresses, as I understand it. But there must be some men out there. Look at Aveline and Wesley,” Varric said.

“I’m sure there are some out there. I just haven’t found any, I guess. I’ve only been in a few relationships, and the last one was a few years ago. But they all end the same way. They feel like we are in a ’who-is-the-strongest’ competition. Who is the toughest. Until eventually everything is a contest and a challenge, and you can never show any weakness. The first sign of weakness and they say that it was inevitable because you’re a woman. But the first time they show weakness, they make up some excuse. When it shouldn’t matter all. I shouldn’t have to compete. I shouldn’t have to hide my vulnerability, nor should they. But that’s never how it goes. I don’t want or need to be the strongest, but I won’t allow anyone to belittle or dismiss me either,” Hawke said. “But I was also much younger then, and so were they.” Hawke sighed and finished another mug.

“Cheer up, buttercup. I’m sure the right guy will come along and sweep you off your feet before you know it,” Varric said.

“Thanks Varric, but I’m not in a hurry. I’m doing fine on my own,” Hawke said. She peered up at one of the five, tiny windows in the tavern. It was getting dark outside. “Ugggh, it’s getting late,” Hawke bemoaned, laying her head down on the table.

“Sure is Hawke. One more round before you head off?” Varric asked.

“I should say no,” Hawke said. “But that would be no fun.”

“Haha, that’s my girl,” Varric said and ordered another round for the three of them. Hawke stumbled out of the Hanged Man and made her way through Lowtown all the way to Darktown, and only got lost a few times.

“What about you Fenris? Any tales of forbidden love? You must have left a whole slew of broken hearts back in Tevinter,” Varric said.

“No Varric. Though you are right, any relationship would have been forbidden. Some masters do allow their slaves to marry and have a family, but that is mostly only because it is a great way to secure new slaves. It is cheaper, though, much slower,” Fenris said. “And many masters aren’t willing to risk the divided loyalties that having a family often causes.”

“So you’ve never …” Varric said.

“Even if I had wanted to and had been bold enough to try, my markings would make it … difficult,” Fenris said.

“So your markings, they hurt whenever they’re touched?” Varric asked.

“Not as much as they once did, but yes,” Fenris said.

“Now I can understand why you don’t like hugs. But, does that mean …” Varric asked.

“You’re asking if I’ve ever had sex, because lacking sexual experience is typically considered a weakness for those of the male gender,” Fenris said.

“Actually, I was just curious. Personally I can’t imagine going that long without, you know,” Varric said.

“It’s true I’ve never been with anyone, but that does not mean that I don’t have experience. But it is not a pleasant story, so perhaps we should discuss it some other time,” Fenris said.

“Fair enough,” Varric said.

~

“Hawke,” Anders said as she stumbled into the clinic.

“I take it you had a good time hanging out with Varric,” he said as he grabbed her arm to help her steady her feet.

“Indeed,” Hawke said, pointing her finger in the air very affirmatively.

“We just started a round of Diamond Back. Want to join?” Anders asked.

“Charlie, you’re back,” Bethany said. Hawke now noticed the slight disappointment in her voice. But what could she do? She still couldn’t leave Bethany there by herself.

“Sure, I’ll join in,” Hawke said.

“Anders is teaching me,” Bethany said.

Hawke passed out shortly after they started playing. Anders gently carried her over to a nearby cot, and pulled some blankets over her.

“She should have taken off more of her armor,” Bethany said. “She’s going to have bruises in the morning. Although, I think the hangover is going to bother her more.”

Sure enough, the next morning Hawke was sore all over. One, because of the nasty fight they had been in the day before. Two, from falling asleep in most of her armor. And three, from the massive hangover she had.

“Hawke, here. Try this. It should help with the aches and pain a bit,” Anders said, handing her a small bowl and piece of bread.

“Anders?” Hawke asked, confused for a moment. She had forgotten where she was, but she took the bowl and bread. “It’s barely daybreak. When did you get up to cook?”

“Not too long ago,” Anders said.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Hawke asked groggily.

“Huh, ya. Downside about Justice. It makes sleeping difficult sometimes. How are you feeling? You were pretty drunk when you came back,” Anders laughed.

“I feel …” she paused for a long time. “I feel shitty,” she finally said. She felt like shit. Shit beaten to a bloody pulp.

“How is your arm? Any pain?” he asked.

“Yeah, it aches a little. But my whole body does at the moment. … Fuck,” she cursed under her breathe. “That was a rough fight yesterday.”

“Here. Let me heal it,” Anders said. He removed some of her armor, and pulled back the bandages.

“You should save your strength for Bethany,” Hawke said.

“Don’t worry about me Hawke,” Anders said with a soft smile. A few minutes later, Hawke’s arm was completely healed. Still tender, but healed.

“Thank you Anders. Thank you for everything you’ve done for Bethany, and for me. Not just today. I don’t know what we would do without you,” she said.

“Of course Hawke,” Anders said. “Anything –”

“Ow,” Bethany exclaimed, cutting Anders off.

“Bethany, are you ok?” Hawke said, standing up slowly. But she sat back down when everything started spinning.

“Don’t try to move yet,” Anders instructed Bethany. “Let me take a look at the wound.”

After they had eaten some breakfast, Anders applied some more magical healing to Bethany’s wound, and replaced her bandages. He gave her a draught to take three times a day for the next few days, and wrote the directions down for Hawke, just in case.

“I wish there was a way to magically send a message to someone instantaneously, instead of having to send birds or runners,” Hawke said. “I’d have Fenris come and help me carry Bethany back to the house.” Momentarily forgetting that Fenris couldn’t read the note, even if she could get one to him in time.

“I can carry her,” Anders said.

“No Anders,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, I might be a mage but that doesn’t mean that I’m not strong,” he replied, clearly hurt.

“Anders - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you of being weak. I know that feeling all too well. I … I wasn’t trying to imply that you couldn’t do it. I just meant that you’re not at full strength after doing so much healing for Bethany and I,” Hawke said.

But he could and he did carry Bethany back to Gamlen’s house in Lowtown. Hawke followed, dragging her feet and cursing the sunlight.

“Oh Bethany!” Leandra exclaimed when they returned. “I was so worried when you two didn’t return last night! Oh Bethany, my poor dear.”

“I’m ok mother, please don’t worry,” Bethany said.

“Hello Mrs. Hawke,” Anders said before laying Bethany down in her bed.

“Charlie, what happened?” Leandra demanded.

“We were helping Aveline scout the Wounded Coast. There was a group of raiders targeting caravans. Their numbers were much larger than we had anticipated, and they had some very skilled archers among them. We took care of them, but it was a rough fight to be sure,” Charlie explained.

“And you, what’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? Hungover? While your sister lies wounded?!” Leandra scolded.

“Anders is taking care of her mother. There is nothing else I could have done for her,” Charlie sulked, and headed into their bedroom. “Thank you again Anders. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to repay you. But for now, I … I’m going to lay down,” she said, and closed the bedroom door behind her.

“Those girls are going to be the death of me,” Leandra said.

“Hawke took good care of Bethany, I assure you. She was injured too, though not as badly. Bethany will be right as rain in a few days,” Anders said.

“Thank you Anders. Oh maker, what would my girls do without such a handsome healer?” Leandra said. Anders laughed softly.

“They would surely perish without my good devilish good looks,” he smiled, and let himself out.


	5. Daisy

Unfortunately, the Captain of the Guard was _not_ impressed with Aveline’s initiative. But it only raised further questions and revealed other flaws. Aveline dug deeper, and with Hawke’s help, they patrolled Lowtown one night, to get to the bottom of whatever the Captain was trying to hide. It was another ambush, and another guard would have been killed, if Aveline hadn’t stepped in. This time the guard was a handsome, sturdy fellow by the name of Donnic. After the events that night, Aveline took her findings to the Viscount, and the Captain of the Guard was arrested.

“And then he made you Captain of the Guard?” Varric asked.

“Yes,” Aveline replied heavily.

“Not happy?” Varric asked.

“I am, it’s just. Unexpected. Sudden. And even though I think I’m up to the task, it’s a big task to undertake,” Aveline said. “How is Bethany doing?”

“You wouldn’t know anything happened to look at her, or talk to her,” Hawke said. “She’s back to her old self. Maybe even more than that. She hasn’t stopped grinning from ear to ear since the night we spent at Anders’ clinic and he carried her all the way home.”

Fenris cocked his eyebrow and took a bite of nug jerky that Varric had offered him.

“So Hawke,” Aveline began. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh,” Varric laughed.

“Hush Varric,” Aveline scolded. “When are you going to take the amulet to Sundermount like you promised Flemeth? You _are_ going to take it, aren’t you?”

“Bethany and I were just discussing it the other day actually. We had totally forgotten about it. Bethany found it in our trunk when she was rummaging through it trying to find something nice to wear for when she went to thank Anders,” Hawke said. “We were thinking of going in a few days. Did you want to come Aveline? I don’t think we all need to be there. I think we just have to hand over the amulet.”

“Wait, wait,” Varric said. “Flemeth? You couldn’t be talking about the famed Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth?”

“We are,” Aveline said. “The one and the same.”

“Back up. Tell me the whole story. And I do mean the whole story,” Varric said pulling out some parchment and ink.

“Haven’t we told you how we escaped Lothering, Varric?” Aveline asked.

“The version I got included running from darkspawn and catching a boat to Kirkwall. There was no mention of Flemeth,” he replied.

“Who is Flemeth? A mage I assume, by the moniker ‘Witch of the Wilds’?” Fenris asked.

“You haven’t heard the stories of _the_ Flemeth?” Varric asked. “Does that mean you haven’t much about the Hero of Fereldan?”

“Haven’t exactly had time to be catching up on stories, what with running from Danarius and all,” Fenris retorted.

Varric waved his hand at Fenris. “Say no more Fenris.”

“The short version, Varric,” Fenris said.

“I’m wounded, elf,” Varric laughed. “But I’ll agree only because I’m eager to hear Hawke & Aveline’s story. So, the Hero of Fereldan, the beautiful warrior, daughter of the Cousland family, and now Warden Commander. Well soon after she was initiated into the wardens, the Battle of Ostagar took place. Another story that Aveline & Hawke could tell us more about since they also fought in that battle.”

Surprised, Fenris turned to Hawke & Aveline. This was the first time Fenris had heard that they participated in the Battle of Ostagar.

“No.” Aveline said shortly, refusing to speak of Ostagar.

“Anyway. As I was saying, the Hero of Fereldan lit the beacon to signal for reinforcements, which never came. They were wounded and overrun by darkspawn, and without reinforcements they surely would have perished - if it had not been for Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, who turned herself into a dragon and rescued them from the tower.”

“Who is this Flemeth?” Fenris asked.

“No one really knows,” Aveline said. “There are plenty of stories though. The dragon part, we can vouch for.”

“The stories say many things about Flemeth. Old, old mage. Long past a normal life span. They say she eats children. Some say she possesses them. But very few have ever actually _met_ her,” Varric said. “She was mostly just a legend. A tale mothers used to scare their children into behaving. But nothing more. Until the Hero of Fereldan.”

“Whatever she is, she is very real,” Hawke said. “We … we met her just after Carver died. We had been running from the darkspawn for days. Their numbers were growing. We ran into Aveline and Wesley just a day prior. We came to a clearing. At first there weren’t any darkspawn. But then we heard … thundering footsteps. A darkspawn ogre came charging up the ravine, and straight for us. Carver didn’t even think twice. He was right - it had to be headed off quickly or both mother and Wesley would have died. Carver rushed at it. But he …” Hawke stopped. After a moment, Aveline continued where Hawke had left off.

“The ogre picked Carver up and crushed him with one hand. It was a quick death Hawke. He didn’t feel any pain,” Aveline said, putting her hand on Hawke’s shoulder.

“The ogre was still a threat, but his course had been altered and his charge thwarted, giving Wesley and mother time to retreat to a safer area. Bethany, Aveline, & I dealt with the ogre. As if that weren’t enough, more darkspawn poured into the clearing. We took them out, one after the other, but for each one we killed, two more took its place. We were outnumbered and quickly growing tired. That’s when a dragon appeared. I’m not going to lie. I thought we were done for in that moment. I figured it was the archdemon. But instead of joining the attack against us, it took out the darkspawn in one fell swoop - and landed in front of us. A moment later, the dragon was changing, transforming in glowing light, until a beautiful woman stood there.”

“Beautiful?” Aveline asked. “More like terrifying.”

“I guess I couldn’t help but be impressed by her appearance. So graceful. And her clothing was not what I would have expected from a witch. They were, sophisticated? Maybe sophisticated isn’t quite the right word. It’s hard to describe her. Beautiful, and terrifying. Her hair though,” Hawke said laughing a little.

“I’ll give you that,” Aveline agreed. “Her hair was certainly a beauty.”

“Do tell,” Varric said.

“At first I thought they were horns,” Aveline said. “And I’m still not entirely sure they weren’t?”

“No, it had to be her hair. They were white, just like her hair, and they didn’t push aside the rest of her hair the way horns would have. Nor did they appear to be hardened like horns. I don’t know. At any rate, she had her hair fashioned into what looked like horns, and they were wrapped in ribbon. I can never do anything with my hair and there she was, just ….” Hawke said.

“Ahahaha, so let me get this straight. Flemeth lands in front of you as a dragon, taking out a horde of darkspawn, then transforms into a woman, and your first thought at the time was her hair?!” Varric asked.

“Mm, no. Her hair was a quick second thought. My first thought was how fucking amazing it was to be able to turn into a dragon. Another reason why I always wanted to be a mage. I’ve always envied Bethany for that,” Hawke said.

“You wish you were a mage?” Fenris asked both shocked and disgusted.

“I know you have reason to distrust them Fenris. And I know that there are dangers with being a mage. But. I just think magic is so amazing. I idolized my father who was a mage, and next to him and my sister I always just felt so … ordinary,” Hawke said. “But it’s probably best that I’m not a mage. Haha, I would probably be a bad mage.”

“Oh Maker,” Aveline said. “I can just see it now. Thank the Maker indeed that you are not a mage.”

“So Flemeth is standing there, and …” Varric asked.

“She talked to us. She had seen Hawke take down the ogre, and was impressed,” Aveline said.

“I didn’t take down the ogre, Aveline. We all did,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, be modest all you want, but we both know that it went down because of you. We mostly just managed to distract it for you,” Aveline said.

“Anyway,” Hawke said, quickly shrugging off the compliment. “I don’t think she had initially intended to do anything more than what she had done for us. But after speaking with us, and learning where we were headed, she said that she would help us get to Gwaren - if we delivered an amulet to a clan of Dalish elves living in Sundermount.”

“And so you just accepted this witch’s help, just like that?” Fenris asked.

“Actually,” Aveline said glancing at Hawke. “The rest of us were a bit weary of her. Even Bethany. Perhaps especially Bethany. But Hawke - Hawke trusted her right away I think.”

“We didn’t have any other option. Our path was clear for the moment, but Gwaren was still a long way off and the darkspawn numbers were getting larger, not smaller. And without Carver,” Hawke said.

“We didn’t have any other option, you’re right, but that’s different than trusting her. Still a promise is a promise, and I would not want to break a promise with someone like Flemeth,” Aveline said.

“So you still have the amulet?” Varric asked.

“Yes,” Hawke said.

“To answer your earlier question Hawke, no, I don’t need to be there with you. As long as the promise is fulfilled, I will be happy. Or rather, at ease,” Aveline said.

“I would like to come along, if that’s alright Hawke,” Varric said. “I can’t pass up the chance to see how this ends.”

“We’re just handing the amulet over to the keeper of the Dalish clan,” Hawke said. “I really don’t expect there to be any fighting or anything.”

“Still, you can never be too careful,” Fenris said. “I would join as well.”

“I admit, I’m surprised anyone is interested in this little trek, but you’re more than welcome to come along. Bethany and I were planning on heading to Sundermount in two days. She has the day free from her jobs, and Anders’ clinic will be closed for the day so that he can do something or other,” Hawke said.

“You were going to invite Anders?” Fenris asked, bristled.

“No. But if the clinic was open, then Bethany would spend the day there,” Hawke said, rolling her eyes.

“So it’s a date then?” Varric said, winking at Hawke.

“It’s a date,” Hawke winked back, adding a sultry smile.

~

“Have you been to Sundermount before?” Hawke asked Varric, as they approached the road out of the city, to the mountain.

“I have not. I have no reason to. And besides, I’m a city dwarf. Honestly, if this didn’t have something to do with Flemeth, I wouldn’t even be here. All this walking and hiking and climbing is not my thing.” Varric said.

“Have you been to the mountain before, Hawke?” Fenris asked.

“No. And I’m nervous about meeting the Dalish. I know that the Dalish are not fond of humans, to put it mildly. And I don’t blame them. But I hear that they often shoot first and ask questions later, and I don’t want to fight them,” Hawke said.

“Me either,” Bethany said.

“Me three, Sunshine,” Varric agreed.

The group traveled slowly into Dalish territory, doing their best to look non-threatening, if that’s even possible for Hawke. It wasn’t long before they were stopped by Dalish scouts who reluctantly agreed to take them to see their keeper. The keeper greeted them warmly, but informed them that, unfortunately, their task was not yet done. They must take the amulet to the top of Sundermont, and there, with the help of one of their own, they must perform a funeral rite. However, as the keeper mentioned, the way to the top was dangerous. So much so that the clan had been told to stay away. Hawke was suddenly glad that she brought more than just Bethany with her.

Merrill, the clan’s First, joined them part way up the mountain. She was a thin, petite framed young elven girl. Her dark dark was cut short, and dotted with braids. She had light facial Dalish tattoos, and a beautiful green scarf that she wore around her neck. She led them up the mountain and to some caverns that wound through to the other side, and eventually to top of the mountain itself. Hawke realized with horror, what lie in store for them in the caverns, as soon as they stepped foot inside. A faint skittering noise was the only warning they had before a number of giant spiders descended upon them. Hawke shrieked bloody murder at the top of her lungs and leaped into Fenris’ arms in a single bound, still shrieking.

“Hawke!” Fenris shouted, startled and confused. He managed to peel himself free and rushed at the bulk of them. Shaking, Hawke unsheathed her sword and took several deep breaths trying to steel herself. Hawke hacked and slashed at the giant spiders erratically and frantically. One spider got past their circle of defense and tried to pull Hawke to the ground, from behind. It’s legs on her shoulders, pinchers screeching over her head, Hawke screamed again and whirled around, slicing it in half. Unfortunately, this also managed to spray spider guts all over Hawke and Fenris.

“Hawke, don’t tell me you’re scared of spiders,” Varric panted after they killed the last of them.

“Terrified,” Bethany said. “Even tiny ones.”

“Aren’t there giant spiders in the wilds near Lothering?” Varric asked.

“Yes,” Hawke said, still trembling and dripping in spider guts. “Carver used to make fun of me, but in the end he would always fight them for me. I don’t really know why they scare me when so many other things don’t. Or rather, I know exactly why I’m scared of spiders, just not why I’m not scared of reanimated corpses or darkspawn. Well, I _am_ scared of darkspawn but it’s a different kind of fear. A manageable one, anyway.”

“Maker’s breath,” Varric cursed getting a whiff of the spider guts. “That smells awful, Hawke.”

Merrill used a little bit of magic to help clean Hawke off, as best as she could. Fenris refused the magical help, but accepted a rag from Varric which did very little truthfully. The rest of the path was littered with risen skeletons and corpses, but luckily, no more giant spiders.

When they finally reached the top, Merrill instructed Hawke to place the amulet on the alter so that she could perform the funeral rite. Varric, handsome devil that he is, knew that he would be greatly rewarded for joining Hawke. His keen sense for great adventures and stories was right. As Merrill spoke the last words, there was a small flash of shifting light and a moment later, a tall woman with white hair, horns, some sort of crown, and a truly distinguished sense of fashion stood before them. Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds.

“Aah, and here we are,” Flemeth said.

“Son of a nug,” Varric whispered.

“Witch,” Fenris cursed under his breathe.

“Andaran atish’an, Asha’bellanar,” Merrill said, bowing.

“Do you know who I am, beyond than that title?” Flemeth asked.

“I know only a little,” Merrill said.

“Then stand. The people bend their knee too quickly,” Flemeth said, then turned to Hawke. “So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet would end up in a merchant’s pocket,” she said.

“I keep my promises,” Hawke said. “Though I confess I don’t understand: you were in the amulet the whole time?”

“Just a piece, a small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has,” Flemeth said.

“You are no simple witch,” Fenris said.

“Figure that out yourself, did you?” Flemeth asked, mockingly.

“I have seen powerful mages, spirits, and abominations. But you are none of those things. What are you?” Fenris asked.

“Such a curious lad. The chains are broken, but are you truly free?” Flemeth asked.

“You see a great deal,” Fenris said, as an icy chill slithered down everyone’s back sides.

“I am a fly in the ointment. I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that, you need not know,” Flemeth said - making absolutely zero sense. But true to Hawke’s story, her hair was spectacular. After some more questions, and some more senseless, eerie answers, Flemeth bid Hawke good bye.

“You have my thanks,” she paused. “And my sympathy.” And she transformed into a dragon and flew off. Just like that.

The keeper thanked Hawke, glad to see that there were at least a few honorable shemlen, that is humans, left in the world. Then she asked Hawke to take Merrill, the clan’s First, back with her to Kirkwall. It was a very unusual request, since the First is the apprentice to the Keeper. A very critical position for a Dalish clan. Everyone at the Dalish camp was acting weird about it too. The Keeper didn’t explain, and Hawke had sense enough not to pry. So they headed back to Kirkwall, mostly in silence. Varric asked Merrill a few questions, and had arrived at a nickname for her before they even reached the city: Daisy.

~

“So, how did it go? And where is Hawke?” Aveline asked, sitting down at Varric’s table as the others arrived.

“It was not what I expected,” Fenris said.

“Fenris, do you live here with Varric?” Aveline asked.

“No. You know I live in Danarius’ old mansion in Hightown,” Fenris said, puzzled.

“It’s just that- oh never mind,” Aveline said.

“Hawke,” Varric started as he rummaged through some papers, looking for more blank parchment. He had been busy writing since they got back. “Hawke is getting Daisy setup in the alienage.”

“Daisy? Who?” Aveline asked, turning to Fenris.

“The Keeper asked us to bring her to Kirkwall, once we finished returning the amulet to Flemeth,” Bethany said.

“Wait, you actually _saw_ Flemeth?” Aveline asked.

“In the flesh, or at least I think,” Varric said.

“She was in the amulet,” Bethany explained. “Or, a piece of her was.”

“I don’t understand,” Aveline said.

“Sweetheart, none of us do,” Varric said.

 _“’A fragment cast a drift from the whole. A bit of floxsam to cling to in the storm,’_ ” Fenris quoted.

“Oooo,” Varric said, racing to jot it down. “Thanks Fenris. I couldn’t remember the whole line.”

“And then she turned into a dragon,” Fenris said.

“She did. She really did,” Varric said, shaking his head without looking up as he wrote.

“Sounds like I missed all the fun,” Anders said as he joined the group and sat down.

“You would say that,” Fenris said, shooting daggers with his eyes. Anders fired back.

“I for one am glad I was _not_ there,” Aveline said. “That woman scares me.”

“Me too,” Bethany said. “She gives me the chills.”

“Me three,” Varric said. “But what a story! It was worth it just for that. A dragon!” He shook his head again.

“And so this Daisy person?” Aveline asked again.

“She is the Keeper’s First. It’s … like an apprentice, she said. It was all a bit weird, the way everyone was acting, but they asked us to bring Merrill to Kirkwall. Hawke agreed,” Bethany said.

“She’s a mage,” Fenris spat. “Who’s dabbled in blood magic.”

“That makes me uneasy as well,” Bethany confessed. “But she is, I think, the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“She’s naive,” Fenris said.

“Always glad to have another mage around,” Anders said. Fenris turned and glowered at him.

“The alienage, huh?” Aveline asked. “Poor girl sounds like she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.”

“No, she doesn’t. Poor kid. She looked so wilted when we left, to see what the alienage looked like,” Varric said.

“That place is depressing. Let us speak of it no longer,” Fenris said.

With that the table grew silent, all except for Varric’s scribbling and occasional rustling of papers, and murmuring to himself as he wrote. Fenris and Aveline called it a night early. Bethany and Anders stuck around chatting, while Varric continued writing. Hawke joined sometime later, just as Bethany and Anders were leaving.

“Those two seem to be getting along quite well,” Hawke said, watching Bethany alight with pure joy as she exited with Anders, who was escorting her home before returning to Darktown.

“Huh? Oh ya,” Varric said, looking up for the first time in a while.

“Hawke, you sure know how to stumble into some pretty crazy shit,” Varric said.

“Don’t I know it,” she replied, downing her mug in one go.

“How is Daisy settling in?” Varric asked.

“Daisy? You already assigned her a nickname, that fast?” Hawke asked.

“That fast,” Varric laughed.

“She’s …” Hawke paused. “It’s going to take some time for her to settle in.” They were silent for a moment.

“Did you know that the first time we met Flemeth, I actually asked her if she could teach me how to turn into a dragon?” Hawke said. “Pointless, I know, since I’m not a mage. But I couldn’t resist.”

“Haha. That’s pretty ballsy, Hawke,” Varric said.

“What can I say? I just want to be a dragon,” Hawke said and grinned.

“I know, and that’s why we love you,” Varric laughed.

~

Hawke checked on Merrill a few days later, to see how she was doing. Leandra had packed Hawke a basket of baked goods as nice “welcome to your new home” gift.

“Hawke,” Merrill said when she answered the door. “I … I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Hawke said. Merrill invited her inside.

“Oh, you know. I’m … I’m getting by,” Merrill said.

“I have a ‘welcome home’ present for you,” she handed Merrill the basket.

“What this?” Merrill asked, pulling out a small wrapped package. She unwrapped it carefully, to discover a small carved statue of Andraste.

“Ah,” Hawke laughed nervously. “It’s a tradition in Fereldan to give new home owners a statue of Andraste. I … I realized after I gave one to Fenris that maybe it’s not the most appropriate home warming gift for everyone. I honestly don’t know what else to get someone though, in these situations. At least it’s pretty?” Hawke said sheepishly.

“It’s … thank you, Hawke,” Merrill smiled.

“Mother baked sweet rolls and a baguette, another tradition in Fereldan,” Hawke said.

“Thank you, Hawke. It’s a very sweet gesture,” Merrill said.


	6. Rivaini

Hawke and Fenris had met twice now for their reading and writing lessons. Hawke brought several books for their first lesson, but pretty quickly realize that teaching someone to read was not as simple as she had expected. Hawke spent the first lesson bumbling around trying to figure out how to attack this thing called teaching. Hawke was struggling to figure where to begin and how to tackle this challenge. It meant more to her than she realized, and she was incredibly frustrated by how difficult it was proving.

The second lesson started out marginally better than the first, since Hawke was at the very least aware that her first approach would not work. Strangely you can’t just cram words into someone’s brain. Who knew? But the second lesson was _only_ marginally better.

“Heh. Who would have thought that trying to teach someone how to read would be so difficult,” Hawke said, embarrassed at her obviously poor talent for teaching.

“It’s ok Hawke,” Fenris said. “I’ve gone this long without being able to read.”

“Fenris, this is important. You cannot truly be free if you have to rely on others to translate for you. That gives them all the power and places you at their mercy. I refuse to allow you to quit,” Hawke said.

“Hawke …” Fenris said, surprised and touched.

“I’m … I’m sorry I’m so bad at this. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. My talents mostly include being a stubborn pain in the ass, and smashing things. Varric would be a better teacher, honestly,” Hawke said.

“I’ll make you a deal Hawke,” Fenris said. “I won’t give up on learning, if you don’t give up on teaching.”

Hawke looked up from the piles of parchment and ink, scribbles and smudges of her second failed lesson. She was surprised but appreciative of Fenris’ vote of confidence in her, even if it was foolish.

“Deal,” she said. Hawke sighed heavily looking through the papers again. “Maybe we should just start with your name.”

At last she had realized that she had been making it more complicated than it needed to be. They spent the next few hours going over the letters in Fenris’s name, and then they moved to ‘Hawke,’ ‘Varric,’ ‘Bethany,’ and Aveline.’ An unfortunate outcome, depending on how you look at it, is that Fenris would forever spell hawk, as in the bird, with an e added at the end. No one knew if it was something that was just stuck in his brain, or if he deliberately did it, as Varric corrected him many times over the years. But that is getting a bit ahead of the story.

~

“Varric,” Hawke said as she entered his room.

“Mmmmm. What’s up Hawke? What can I do for you?” He asked as he looked up from his work: apparently working on his latest book.

“If I were, maybe, possibly, trying to teach someone how to read …. How should I go about it? Where should I start?” She asked.

“You … teach?” Varric asked with a laugh.

“That’s exactly the reason I’m here asking you … because it, it hasn’t gone so well. My poor teaching ability is to blame,” she said.

“Just who is it anyway?” Varric asked, dying of curiosity.

“I’m not sure this individual would appreciate me disclosing their name. I’m not sure how they feel about others knowing,” Hawke said.

“Alright alright,” Varric said, but after a moment’s pause he said, “It’s Gamlen, isn’t it?”

“Heh,” Hawke said with nervous laughter.

“Alright. I won’t pry. Hmmmm. Where to start, eh?” Varric said. “Well, they have to know their letters and numbers first. So teaching them the common language alphabet is the first place to start. But, easier said than done.”

“My teachers always made it seem easy,” Hawke said. “Despite my efforts to make it as hard as possible. I actually did well in school, whenever I could myself to sit still and focus that is. And now I’m wondering if my teachers weren’t all Tevinter sorcerers.”

“Ahahaha,” Varric laughed. “To teach you, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had to resort to blood magic. Let me try to find some learning materials suitable for an adult. I’ll let you know by the end of the week. For now, maybe just start by teaching them the letters of their name and things like Kirkwall, Hightown, Lowtown, Hanged Man, the Docks, names of the streets, etc - that way they can at least read a map, maybe.”

“Thanks Varric! You’re the best,” Hawke said, and gave Varric a big hug.

Fenris and Hawke met two more times before the end of the week. They were a tremendous improvement over the first two attempts, but Hawke still felt woefully inadequate. But Fenris it turns out, was a very quick learner which made things much easier on Hawke. By the end of the week Fenris could read and write his name, and they had begun working on the names on a map that Hawke had pinned to one of his walls.

Varric had managed to locate a tutor who had been secretly tutoring a noble lord, one who had managed to evade most of his childhood schooling. There was a whole first year curriculum. Small books, practice papers, notes. Hawke couldn’t believe it, and honestly, it made her feel a great deal worse about her own initial efforts. It was also a bit overwhelming, which was evident in her expression as she looked through what Varric had given her.

“You don’t have to use everything,” Varric said. “Find things that you think would be helpful, and discard the rest.”

“Varric, I can’t thank you enough,” Hawke said.

“I’ll just put it on your tab,” Varric said and winked. “So, what’s the job this week,” Varric asked.

“Well,” Hawke said, not sounding very confident. “Do you remember Javaris, the dwarf we rescued a few weeks back?”

“Vaguely,” Varric said.

“He sent me a letter. He says he has a job for me. Apparently, Tal-Vashoth have been murdering travelers in the Wounded Coast,” Hawke said.

“And he wants you to kill them for him, I take it. What’s in it for him?” Varric asked.

“I guess the Arishok said he would give Javaris the recipe for an explosive powder that doesn’t require lyrium or magic, if he found a way to clear out the Tal-Vashoth. It’s not really my first choice for a job. I’d really rather leave all of the Qunari alone, Tal-Vashoth or not. Naturally Aveline doesn’t approve. But I don’t have the luxury of being choosy, and they _are_ murdering innocent travelers,” Hawke said.

“Damn. Those are some tough bastards,” Varric said.

“Want to join us?” Hawke asked, flashing him her best puppy eyes. “I could use another hand since Aveline said she can’t participate. Guard Captain can’t be involved in something like this, or whatever.”

“Sure, I’ll come along. Why not. What could possibly go wrong hunting some Qunari Tal-Vashoth?” Varric said.

In theory, the task was simple. But as the wise Varric had said, Qunari are some tough bastards. Built like ox, tough as nails. They stand at least a head taller than humans, and are typically at least a full shoulder broader than the typical muscular male human. What really tops off their intimidating looks though, is their grey skin and their horns. Yes, horns. Rumor has it that ages ago, somehow dragon DNA was added to the mix. But the people and the religion are confusing Qunari is both the name for the race and the religion, but non-Qunari races can be part of the Qun, and are thus always considered Qunari. Those who leave the Qun are called Tal-Vashoth, so technically a ‘Qunari Tal-Vashoth’ could be an oxymoron, unless you were specifically trying to refer a person of the race who left the Qun. However, most refer to them simply as Qunari and care little for the technicalities.

These massive paragons of muscle generally favor great swords and javelins! Javelins! One of those will put a decent sized hole right through you. And they certainly did their best to take a chunk out of Hawke. True to Javaris’ letter, th Tal-Vashoth were lying in wait on the Wounded Coast, attack virtually everything that moved. They the advantage of higher ground and saw Hawke’s group approach long before Hawke had any inkling about where they Tal-Vashoth were camped.

Javelins flew the air as the Tal-Vashoth bellowed impressive war cries. Bethany screamed from surprise, but likely the first wave of Javelins only managed to penetrate sand, and not flesh. The Tal-Vashoth rushed down the embankment, and Hawke met their steel with her own. It was one of the most difficult battles Hawke can recall. The sun was beating down on them and cooking both her and Fenris inside their armor. The sand beneath their feet shifted, making deflecting blows difficult, and challenged their balance. The Qunari themselves were some of the most formidable opponents she had ever faced. They were similar to the darkspawn in many ways. They fought without reservation or hesitation, and they were capable of impressively forceful blows. And the Tal-Vashoth weren’t weighed down by heavy army. In fact, they wore very little at all; only modest trousers, boots, and red war paint that covered their chests and faces. It was not Hawke’s best fighting performance.

That first encounter on the beach, they out numbered 2 to 1, and Bethany’s attacks seemed to have the greatest effect against them than swords and arrows. Each block and parry only shoved Hawke backward in the sand, or forced her to stumble backward. She had to get to firmer ground or she was not going to win the fight. Up ahead she could see a wooden platform. It looked like at one time someone had tried to cover part of the sandy path with wooden planks. Hawke let out a deep war cry of her own, and pressed her opponent forward taking several great strides until they were close enough to the platform that she could block and pivot under his swinging arm, and move herself into a flanking position. He turned quickly and blocked her swing, but the firm ground was all she needed to to turn her fight around. Bethany had already managed to take one out, and Varric’s arrows had found one of their necks vulnerable. Hawke struck her opponent in the face with the pommel of her great sword, and in one swoop brought her blade down onto his skulls. He fell to the ground, his blood staining the sand a deep red.

One of the Tal-Vashoth yelled some in Qunari, and rushed at Bethany. Hawke blocked him just in time, but his cries had alerted reinforcements. She killed her opponent quickly, and began making a dash for the embankment. One of the javelin throwers had run out of weapons, but he still had the advantage of the upper ground. Hawke was charging right for him. He side stepped her charge and sucker punched her right in the face when she turned toward him. She hit the ground with such a thud and didn’t stir for a solid minute. Fenris barely fought off three Qunari until Hawke staggered to her feet again, and eventually put her sword right through the Qunari’s thick neck. And that was only the beginning of it. They had to fight their way to the Tal-Vashoth stronghold, located in one of the caverns further up the sandy hill. Inside the Tal-Vashoth numbers were even greater, but at least it was cooler and the ground was much firmer. The gang was able to hold their own and gain some ground until a saarebas, or a Qunari mage, suddenly appeared and scoured the cave with lighting, inflicting everyone in it’s path with lightning burns. They defeated the Tal-Vashoth in the end, and banged and bruised they shuffled back to the city.

Hawke sent word that evening to Javaris that the Tal-Vashoth had been taken care of, but apparently that wasn’t the end of the deal. Javaris said he couldn’t pay until he had the black powder in hand, and since Hawke had been the one to kill the Tal-Vashoth, he insisted that Hawke go with him to see the Arishok. So the day after the fight with the Tal-Vashoth, they went to see the Arishok. Bethany had done her best to heal Hawke’s eye while Anders was away on some kind of business. With some magic and a few salves, the swelling vanished and only a purple-yellow ring around Hawke’s eye remained. The lightning burn on Hawke’s arm still stung, but otherwise wasn’t bad and no longer needed to be bandage.

“There you are,” Javaris said. “What took you so long?”

“You said to meet here at noon, and it is noon,” Hawke said.

“Yes, yes. Come on,” Javaris said. He led the way into the Qunari compound and the biggest Qunari you’ve ever seen approached, and sat in something equivalent to a throne.

“Arishokost. Maraas shokra. Aanaan esaam Qun,” Fenris said.

“What did you just say!?” Varric whispered in harsh surprise. Hawke starred at the elf, mouth slightly agape.

“The Qun, from an elf? The madness of this … place,” the Arishok said in a deep, bellowing voice.

“Friend of yours?” Hawke asked quietly.

“Friend of no one,” Fenris replied.

“Yes,” Javaris said stepping forward. “Ahem, well. That said, I am here to report that Hawke here felled your hated Tal-Vashoth, one and all. So, I’m ready to open negotiations for the explosive powder, as we agreed.”

“No,” the Arishok replied simply.

“Fenris?” Hawke whispered. “Have anything useful up your sleeve? Maybe say something more in Qunari?”

“Qunari do not abandon a debt,” Fenris said. “I humbly request clarification from the Arishok.”

“I have a growing lack of disgust for you,” the Arishok said. Hawke had to repeat that in her head a few times to understand what he meant. “The dwarf imagined the deal for the gaatlok. He invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none.”

“Then we have wrongly inserted ourselves in your affairs. Would you have us kill this dwarf?” Fenris asked. Hawke jerked her head in surprise.

“Wait. What now?” Javaris asked, stepping back a bit.

“If you faced Tal-Vashoth, he is not worthy of dying to you. As he was not worthy of dying to them. But you … you keep good company. Let him live. And leave,” the Arishok said.

“You may want to take this opportunity to go,” Hawke said to Javaris.

“But he has to sell. It’s a product. People want it,” Javaris said.

“There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun. The means of creating the gaatlok is ours alone. It shall be dispensed only to our enemies, in the traditional manner,” the Arishok said.

“Youuu are a frustrating people,” Javaris said. “And you, you’re fired,” he said to Hawke.

“Now wait just a minute,” Hawke said angrily to Javaris, but he was already stomping off.

“Horn-headed oxmen and mongrel dog lords. Suck your own powder and blow your head off. Sod it!” Javaris said as he stormed out of the compound.

“And you will leave as well human. There is no more coin for you here,” the Arishok said.

“Don’t worry Hawke,” Varric said as they left the Quanri compound. “I’ll have my contacts chase Javaris down. He’ll pay up before the end of the week.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Hawke said through her clenched teeth. “The only thing I care about right now is getting royally fucking drunk.”

It had been one hell of a fight, it had been an all day affair, and there had been injuries to boot. It had promised to be a well paying job too, and now it was a no paying job. To say that Hawke was pissed, was putting it mildly.

“So tell me Elf, how the blazes do you know the Qunari language?” Varric asked back at the Hanged Man.

“I lived with a group of fog warriors for a time,” Fenris said.

“Fog warriors?” Varric asked.

“They are native warriors in Seheron. They fight both the Qunari as well as the Imperium. They were the ones who taught me the Qun,” Fenris said.

“Does that mean you’re Qunari then?” Varric asked.

“No, I am _not_ Qunari,” Fenris said. Which made everything as clear as mud for Varric.

“Riiiiight,” Varric said.

Below, in the main hall, there was a great deal of shouting and cheering. That was all fairly normal, but it usually calmed down pretty quickly. This was only growing louder, until over the cacophony they heard a woman shout, _“Fight me! Come on! Is there truly no one who thinks they could be beat me?!”_

“What now?” Varric asked, and all four got up to see what the commotion was about.

“My my,” the woman said. “What do we have here? You look like a strapping lass.” She said grinning from ear to ear as Hawke descended the stairs. By her accent, she was unmistakably from Rivain and she was strikingly beautiful, to put it mildly. Her dark mocha skin glistened in the flickering glow of the tavern lights, and the numerous gold necklaces around her neck twinkled in the light. Her large bosom was attractively lifted and on display thanks to the corset and white, revealing tunic that she wore. Her dark hair was partially covered beneath a blue silk and gold bandanna, and her legs were bare from the knee to her hip, where the tunic split down the side. Every eye in the room was on her. She bit the gold stud on her lower lip, and eyed Hawke seductively.

“Ah, no Isabela. This is Hawke. You don’t want to fight Hawke,” Merrill whispered.

“So _this_ is Hawke? Now I definitely want to fight her,” the woman grinned wickedly. “Hawke is it? I challenge your womanhood,” she winked. “Will you fight me to defend it?” The woman was clearly drunk. But so was Hawke.

“Well, now that you’ve challenged my womanhood, in front of everyone no less, I have no choice but to defend it,” Hawke replied loudly, equally grinning from ear to ear. Hawke appreciated the joke, and immediately took a liking to this incredibly attractive woman. Her posture, pose, and stature all indicated that she could hold her own, drunk or not, which meant that Hawke didn’t need to worry too much about accidentally hurting the woman.

Isabela leaped off of the table where she had been standing, and the two of them threw fist after fist, ducking, dodging, stumbling, knocking over a number of mugs and chairs. Isabela kneed Hawke in the gut pretty hard. Hawke doubled over and coughed, but quickly recovered and responded by giving Isabela a swift kick in the rear end. Corff, the bartender, was yelling and pleading with them to stop. The fight ended when Hawke lost her footing on a wobbly stool. She grabbed onto Isabela for stability, but instead pulled Isabela down with her, and they both fell sideways off a table. Half of the patrons were cheering, while the other half were cursing their spilled ale.

“Haha,” Isabela laughed as she stood up, clutching her side. “I knew I would like you, Hawke.”

“And I think I like you,” Hawke said, carefully untangling herself from a nest of scattered, and some broken, stools. “Perhaps you would care to tell me your name?”

“A round of whiskey for everyone,” Varric shouted to appease the masses.

“I am Isabela. Previously Captain Isabela, but the title rings a bit hollow without a ship,” she said.

“How do you know who I am?” Hawke asked, as she touched her eyebrow. She pulled her away away to discover blood on her fingertips.

“Merrill talks about you all the time,” Isabela said.

“How do you know Merrill?” Hawke asked. They both sat down at the table with Merrill, Bethany, Fenris, & Varric.

“You know, that wasn’t as arousing as I expected it would be,” Fenris whispered to Varric. Varric nearly choked on his beer.

“I met Isabela the other week,” Merrill said. “I had come by to talk to Varric, and well, I’m sure it was all in good jest.”

“Some men decided to harass Merrill, and so I simply returned the favor to them. Funny how they didn’t appreciate it much,” Isabela said.

“She’s so pretty,” Bethany whispered to Varric.

“And you must be Bethany,” Isabela said, looking her up and down. “You are beautiful as Merrill said.”

“Thank you,” Bethany blushed.

“And you, my my what a handsome, saucy little devil,” Isabela said, looking Fenris firmly in the eyes with such desire and thirst, and a tremendous power of seduction. Fenris was rendered speechless for a moment. He swallowed hard and before regaining his senses.

“Ha ha,” Fenris mocked.

“Oh I mean it,” Isabela said.

“No doubt,” Fenris replied.

“You must have ice in your veins, to be able to resist me,” Isabela said.

“Lyrium, actually. But I am not so easily seduced,” Fenris replied.

“Oh ho, playing hard to get I see,” Isabela winked. “I will win you over just yet, wait and see.”

“Hawke, there you are,” Anders said as he walked over to the table.

“There’s my hunky healer,” Isabela said, standing up and hugging Anders tightly with her arms _and_ legs.

“Uh, huh, yes, hello Isabela,” Anders said.

“You’re no fun,” she said, and sat back down again.

“I heard you went to the Qunari compound today. Whatever for?” Anders said, visibly concerned about the matter.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hawke sulked begrudgingly. She had only just forgotten about it.

“We had taken a job to clean out the Tal-Vashoth,” Bethany explained. “But it turns out there wasn’t actually a job, as the Arishok explained to us.”

“You killed Tal-Vashoth?! Maker, Hawke,” Anders said. “And your eye.”

“I tried to heal it all the way,” Bethany said feeling embarrassed at her lack of healing ability. “You should have seen it when she first got it.”

“They’re bad news Hawke,” Anders said, sighed, and sat down at the table. “Maker, I need a drink now.”

“You missed it Anders,” Merrill said cheerily. “Isabela challenged Hawke to a fight, and they went soaring through the air, bounding over tables and stools. It was quite impressive.” Indeed Anders was sad he had missed it.

“Hawke, kitten tells me you’re planning an expedition into the Deep Roads?” Isabela said.

“Well, Varric and his brother are. We’re trying to convince his brother to make me a partner in it,” Hawke explained.

“And you need more money to do that, yes?” Isabela said.

“Ah, yes,” Hawke said, not sure where Isabela was going with this.

“It just so happens that I have a few jobs, and without my crew, I find myself a bit short handed,” Isabela said.

“What kind of jobs?” Hawke asked.

“Smuggling mostly. And don’t worry, I don’t do any jobs that involve smuggling people,” she said.

“We have experience smuggling,” Bethany smiled.

“Ah heh,” Hawke laughed.

“Perfect! Then it’s settled,” Isabela said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, that man over, no not that one, _that_ one, has been eyeing me hungrily all night, and it’s time now that I go and absolutely devour him.” She winked at Hawke, turned, and walked over the a big burly man sitting on the opposite side of the room. Everyone watched Isabela, completely transfixed as her hips swayed so perfectly with each step. She lightly caressed his big, muscular arms, and sat down in his lap. Hawke saw Isabela deftly lift his coin purse without his notice, before proceeding to pet him heavily. They couldn’t look away.

“So Hawke,” Varric eventually said, shaking himself free. “Let’s talk about your fear of spiders.” Bethany and Merrill’s eyes were glued to watching Isabela, but the rest of the table had gladly turned their attention to Varric.

“Oh Maker, please no,” Hawke said.

“Arachnophobia is a phobia that I’ve never understood. Jesters now? That one I get,” Varric said with a shudder.

“She’s always been afraid of them,” Bethany said, returning her attention to their own table.

“Yes but they eat other bugs,” Varric said.

“That’s their only redeeming quality,” Hawke said. “And it’s for that reason that I _want_ to like them.”

“When we were kids, this man from the University of Orlais, an entomologist I think he said, visited Lothering to study the giant spiders in the area. Father agreed to accompany him into the outskirts of the city, just before the Korcari Wilds. Father was his guide and was there to provide some protection. Anyway, he ate dinner with us one night and went on and on about spiders, and told us that we are never more than 6 feet away from a spider at any given time,” Bethany said.

“Little ones are creepy enough as it its,” Hawke said. “They hide in the shadows, in the corners, in the crevices. Above you, below you, behind you. In the folds of your clothing, in your bed sheets. And they bite! But the giant spiders, what do you think they eat Varric? Tiny little flies?!”

“There were some caverns in Lothering, and every now and then the town would have to go and clear out the giant spiders. They would eat small livestock, Mabari puppies, even small children,” Bethany said.

“Yeesh,” Varric said.


	7. Blood Magic

Blood magic was unusually common in Kirkwall, and had been causing problems the entire time Hawke had lived there. But the issues only got worse as time went on, and Hawke only found herself more and more involved with each passing day. In the next several weeks in particular, Hawke had handled a number of different jobs involving mages and blood magic. The outcome of the most recent job had ignited a rather heated debate, when Hawke had sent a number of mages to the circle instead of letting them escape.

“What if they were blood mages?” Hawke asked, bringing the loud argument into the Hanged Man.

“What’s this?” Merrill asked as the group approached. “You know there’s nothing wrong with blood magic. It’s all just a bunch of superstition, really.”

“Merrill, there are two other apostate mages right here, one of them possessed no less, and even they agree that blood magic is too dangerous,” Aveline said.

“Not so loud, Aveline,” Bethany whispered, looking around the fairly empty tavern.

“That’s not the point,” Anders said.

“I’mmm just going to be over here, _not_ arguing …” Isabela whispered and sat down at a corner table.

“How could you just turn them over to the templars like that?” Bethany asked.

“Do you think the templars would have just said, ‘oh gee golly, I guess those blood mages got away. Guess there’s nothing we can do about it?’ No! They would have continued to hunt them, and when they found them, the templars would have killed them. I saved their lives by staying the templars hand, and returning them to the circle,” Hawke said.

“They are in just as much as danger in the circle,” Anders cried. “And there they are defenseless. If you had let them go, they could have escaped.”

“And endangered others when they inevitably turned to blood magic,” Fenris said.

“You don’t know that!” Anders yelled.

“Anders, these mages have never lived outside the circle, not since they were children. They don’t know how to defend themselves, or find food, or shelter, let alone how to hide from the templars,” Hawke said.

“What about Feynriel? You could have let him go to the Dalish,” Bethany said.

“A fine point, Bethany,” Anders said.

“He was literally plagued with demonic dreams, on a nightly basis! The Dalish don’t have templars. What if he wasn’t strong enough to fight them? And for how long could he maintain that kind of strength? What if he ended up killing the entire clan? The circle is the only place that can help him,” Hawke said.

“I appreciate that you were only trying to protect them,” Anders said, though clearly still angry, “but it still should have been their choice.”

“How can you not understand the danger that they possess, when already we have found the dismembered bodies of missing women?” Fenris asked.

“We don’t know that blood magic is involved!” Anders said.

“Anders,” Aveline said. “Even you must admit that the evidence so far leaves very few other possibilities.”

“Can we stop fighting? I don’t like it when we fight,” Merrill said.

“Yes, thank you Merrill,” Anders said. “I have had enough of this argument myself.” Anders marched out of the Hanged Man and slammed the door behind him, startling the other patrons.

“Shit Hawke,” Varric said coming down the stairs. “How did you manage to piss everyone off?”

“Personally, I think Hawke made the right decision,” Aveline said.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” Isabela whispered. Aveline turned around and shot Isabela a glare.

“Would you turn me in like that?” Bethany asked.

“Bethany,” Hawke pleaded.

“No, I want to know if my own sister would turn me in to the templars,” Bethany continued.

“If I thought it was the _only_ way to save your life, yes,” Hawke said.

“I see,” Bethany said. “I’m sorry Varric, but I find that I’m not in much of a mood to be around my sister right now.” And she too left.

“Andraste’s tits,” Hawke cursed. She sat down next to Isabela and laid her head down on the sticky table, face first. “You’d think that I had just blatantly murdered a group of school children _and_ their pack of adorable kittens.”

“I think you mean a _litter_ of adorable kittens,” Varric corrected.

“You’re in a difficult position, and they are adults. They have to option to leave at any time. And whether they want to admit it or not, you’re the only one trying to protect everyone. Anders would let them all go free, regardless of who they might have already killed. And I, I would not be as merciful as you,” Fenris said. He meant well, but he wasn’t helping to ease Hawke’s frustration.

“Ugggh,” Hawke groaned, muffled by the way she was sitting, face down on the table.

“IIII think, it’s time for some drinks,” Isabela said.

“I have to return to the barracks,” Aveline said. “Good luck with Bethany later.” Hawke replied by banging her head on the table.

Hawke kicked rocks and bits of discarded trash as she slowly walked the three blocks back to Gamlen’s house. The journey didn’t take long enough. She circled the block once, and joined a few kids who were kicking a ball around, until their mother called them inside for supper. Hawke sighed, still not wanting to return home to face both Bethany and her mother, who undoubtedly had already heard the story from Bethany, and who of course would take Bethany’s side. She couldn’t avoid them forever, though she did actually contemplate seeing if Aveline or one of the others would let her stay with them for the night. But that was childish, so she accepted her fate, and went inside.

“Charlie, is that you?” Her mother called from the kitchen.

“Yes mother,” Hawke replied, less than enthusiastic.

“Is it true what Bethany says?” She asked, walking into the foyer wiping her hands on a raggedy old towel.

“Depends on what she said, I suppose,” Hawke smarted back.

“Did you really say you would turn her over to the templars?!” Leandra asked.

Hawke sighed heavily. “Did she also mention that turning her over to the templars would only be as a last resort, if it was the only way to save her life?”

“Charlie, really, I don’t know what’s gone on between the two of you, but you’re her sister. Her sister!” Leandra said.

“Which is why I would do just about anything to keep her safe. Mother, I’m really not in the mood to discuss this. I’ve already gotten the third degree from Anders _and_ Bethany today. Can we just, not do this right now?” Hawke asked.

“Fine,” Leandra replied curtly. “Supper is ready. We shouldn’t keep Bethany or Gamlen waiting any longer.”

Supper was unusually quiet. Gamlen, who was usually quiet, did most of the talking. Bethany and Hawke remained silent. Hawke left the house to get some fresh air after supper, unable to handle the passive aggressive sighing and whispered whimpering, and the looks she was getting from both her mother and her sister.

“Guardsmen Donnic,” Hawke said as he approached her.

“Please, call me Donnic,” he said.

“Alright, Donnic,” Hawke replied.

“What are you doing out so late, and in your heavy armor no less?” Donnic asked.

“I need some fresh air, and thought I might clear out some thugs while I was out,” Hawke said.

“I’m not sure if there is such a thing as fresh air in streets of Lowtown,” Donnic said, looking around.

“Mm,” Hawke agreed. “Air then. I just needed air.” Donnic looked at her questioningly. Surely she knew that the air was everywhere, but it was Hawke that he was speaking to.

“Hawke, why don’t you join the guard? You seem to enjoy patrolling the streets as it is, and you are certainly capable of handling yourself. I know Aveline would love to have you in the guard,” Donnic suggested.

“Haha, yes, so she likes to tell me. Repeatedly. But the guard isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Hawke said. “Annnd, I wouldn’t be very good at taking orders from Aveline, truthfully.”

“I confess, I don’t understand. Were you not a soldier in the King’s army? I thought Aveline had said as much, but perhaps I misheard,” Donnic said.

“No, you are correct. I _was_ a soldier in the King’s army. Aveline and I both fought at Ostagar, though I didn’t come to know her until later. But I … I can’t live that kind of life anymore. Fighting at the orders of someone else. Not after Ostagar. Not after Loghain,” Hawke said.

“I see,” Donnic said.

“It sounds like Aveline talks about me a bit?” Hawke asked.

“Yes. I mean, no. Truthfully, Aveline and I don’t speak much,” Donnic said, sounding strangely flustered. “But when we do, you often come up in conversation.”

“I’m flattered,” Hawke laughed.

“Aveline thinks very highly of you,” Donnic said.

“Mm, sometimes,” Hawke said.

They continued walking together through the dimly lit streets of Lowtown, in silence for a time.

“So how have your patrols been recently?” Hawke asked.

“Significantly better since Aveline became Captain,” Donnic said. “I cannot thank you enough Hawke, for what you and Aveline did for me that night.”

“It’s what I do,” Hawke said, trying to brush off the compliment.

“How has your … eh, work, been lately?” Donnic asked.

“I feel like I’ve joined the templars,” Hawke said, starring at the ground and kicking a rock.

“Oh?” Donnic asked.

“I’ve been chasing down and retrieving escaped mages, killing blood mages, and trying to find a bunch of missing women,” Hawke said. “What I don’t understand is with all the resources and forces that the templars have, why they aren’t able to do this on their own? What are they fucking doing, if they aren’t doing these kinds of things?”

“I’m sure glad that we don’t have to deal with blood mages,” Donnic said looking wide eyed. “That’s a royal mess, right there.”

They reached the road that split off and headed up to Hightown, and Hawke stopped. “Donnic, I think I’m going to wander around Hightown for a bit, before I call it a night.”

“Stay safe. Maker’s blessings,” Donnic said, and gave a short wave as they split off.

The Hightown market was empty and quiet. Peaceful. More peaceful than Hawke had hoped. The whole night was turning out to be a frustrating disappointment. Where were all the thugs? She was supposed to be able to take out all her frustration on them. Hawke wandered into the square in front of the Viscount’s office, the square it shared with the old Amell estate. Hawke sat on the ground, leaning her back against a stone pillar, and stared at the estate. This was their goal. Titles, fancy dresses, parties, and petty-coats. Silk slippers. Hawke couldn’t deny that it would be nice to be rich, but there was so much about the high society life that she wasn’t interested in. A bigger house, one that they didn’t have to share with Gamlen, _would_ be nice. And at least Hightown did actually have fresh air. It even had trees and gardens. She plucked at grass that had grown between some of the paving stones beneath her, and just sat there.

A cool breeze flowed down the streets softly. The windows in Hightown were lit up and glittering off of the cool, grey stone walls of the buildings. The Chantry bell sweetly tolled midnight. She didn’t realize she had been out so late.

“Hawke?” Fenris said as he entered the square. “What are you doing here?”

Hawke didn’t reply immediately, searching for the words, and the energy, to reply. Fenris sat down next to her. He took a sip from the bottle of wine he was caring, and passed it to Hawke. She took a sip and passed it back.

“Still agonizing over the earlier argument?” Fenris asked. Hawke nodded.

“How come you don’t protest more whenever we do something that helps mages? I know there are many decisions I’ve made that you haven’t agreed with.” Hawke asked. “I mean, you certainly speak your mind whenever you don’t agree, but you don’t unleash a storm upon me like those two did today.”

“Hm. I supposed it’s because I have a tremendous amount of respect for you, Hawke. You’re … nothing like what I imagined, what I thought you were at first. I didn’t expect I would ever find someone like you. In truth, I had convinced myself that people like you don’t even exist. No, I don’t always agree with you, but it’s abundantly clear that you do not make decisions lightly. You always try to find a way to protect the innocent, no matter who they are. You always seem to know what the right thing to do is,” Fenris said.

“I feel like I never know,” Hawke said. “I try so hard, but it seems like all I do is piss someone off every time.” They were silent for a moment.

“Why do I have to be the leader?” Hawke asked. “Why does everyone follow me? Why can’t everyone follow Aveline, or Varric, or you?”

“Me?? Haha. That would be a sight,” Fenris said. “You were the leader when I met you. Why, you would have to answer for me. But from what I’ve seen since we met, everyone follows you because everyone respects you. You consider everyone, and all of their opinions, and try to make a decision that is good for all. Anders and I would both make lousy decisions that considered only our opinions. Aveline’s stance would be too harsh, too black and white. Varric is great guy, but he doesn’t have the backbone for it. He doesn’t want to be responsible for making decisions.

More importantly, you’re decisive. You simply take charge, whether you mean to or not. You do not waste time. You do not sit idly by waiting for someone else to do something, if you are capable of finding a solution. Too many others may say they want a position of leadership, but in truth they are too afraid to act. You don’t wait, you jump right in.”

“That’s only because I have no patience,” Hawke said. Fenris laughed.

“Do you truly not want to be the leader?” Fenris asked.

“I really truly don’t want to be the leader,” Hawke said.

“But there’s power in being the leader,” Fenris said.

“I’m not interested in power,” Hawke replied.

“Then what are you interested in?” Fenris asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Hawke said. They sat in silence, enjoying the gentle night air.

“That’s the Amell estate, isn’t it?” Fenris asked after a time.

“Yes,” Hawke replied.

“It looks nice,” Fenris said.

“It is, or so I’ve been told,” Hawke sighed.

“There seems to be more bothering you than just the previous argument,” Fenris stated.

“I … I just … I feel lost,” Hawke said. “I feel so out of place here in Kirkwall.”

“I imagine you must miss Lothering a great deal,” Fenris said.

“I don’t know that I miss Lothering,” Hawke said, staring up at a cloud. “I hadn’t lived at home in several years, so I can’t say that I even miss our home. But I … I miss Fereldan. I miss my father. I even miss Carver,” Hawke laughed. “Carver was always so serious, so surly. I never understood why. Father wasn’t like that. I just, I think I just miss feeling like I belonged somewhere. Here, I have to fight tooth and nail so that I can carve out a better life for Bethany and mother. But it feels like I’m trying to force us to be something we’re not. Or at least, something I’m not.”

“Like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole,” Fenris said, then realized how it might have sounded. “I apologize, I wasn’t trying to make a lewd joke.” Hawke laughed.

“I finished that short book you gave me,” Fenris said. “ _’See Spot Run.’_ “

“Oh? That’s great,” Hawke said.

“I enjoyed the pictures as well. I’ve always liked Mabari,” Fenris said.

“I have another book like that,” Hawke said. “I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

Fenris sighed. “I will be glad when I am able to read more substantial material. Thank you again, for all your efforts, Hawke.”

“Of course,” Hawke said and smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

“I am glad of your friendship, Hawke,” Fenris said. “You know, had I known Anso would find me such a capable woman, I would have asked him to look sooner.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help,” Hawke said blushing a little, caught off guard by Fenris’s compliment. “And I’m glad to have you as a friend as well.”

“I’m sure you must miss your friends in Fereldan,” Fenris said. “Have you been in touch with them much, since you came to Kirkwall?”

“They … No. They all died in the blight,” Hawke said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fenris replied.

“Me too,” Hawke sighed. “Bethany is my closest friend though. She always has been. The age difference has sometimes been challenging, and,” she sighed again. “And her being a mage has its own set of problems.”

“Your father is the one who taught her magic then?” Fenris asked.

“Yes. He grew up in a circle and later left after he did some work for the Grey Wardens. He never talked about it though, or why the circle let him go. Bethany and I suspect that the circle didn’t actually let him go. He never specifically stated that they did, and he always danced around it. But was very skilled. He had an extraordinary talent for magic, beyond most mages as I understand it,” Hawke said.

“It seems he was an equally skilled teacher,” Fenris said. “I must admit that Bethany’s level of control is beyond what I had imagined possible.”

“But you still think she should be in a circle?” Hawke asked. She wasn’t angry. She was exhausted over the topic, in fact. She was so tired of the quarrel over magic. If Hawke only knew then how things would end.

“I … yes, I still believe Bethany would be safer in a circle. You and your mother would be safer too. What a tragedy it would be for her to lose the battle against demons, to lose all that she is, to transform and lose her identity, for her magic to be turned against the ones she loves. I … I just think the risk is too great,” Fenris said.

“Living in Kirkwall has … Maker, it’s been awful mostly, haha,” Hawke laughed. “But it has really made me rethink everything about the circles.”

“Oh?” Fenris asked.

“When we lived in Fereldan, we actually knew a number of apostates. Since my father was one, and then my sister, apostate wasn’t a scary term, or a frightening reality. They were rather normal. At least in our area. We still had to watch out for the templars, but that’s just it. _They_ were the danger, not the apostates. And the circles were tortuous prisons. People talk a lot about blood magic when they speak of apostates, but we never knew any who practiced blood magic. Many towns folk were comfortable keeping their silence to protect a few apostates, but they would never protect a blood mage. For that reason alone, all the apostates I knew were scared of blood magic and condemned it harsher than anyone else. Back then, I never would have considered sending Bethany to a circle. But it was also easier to avoid the templars in Fereldan, and they were more … more humane, than the ones here seem to be.

And yet I feel like everywhere we turn, we find ourselves fighting blood mages. They don’t even give us a chance to end things peacefully. Anders keeps saying that it’s only because they’ve been backed into a corner, and I can understand that to a certain degree. It’s just become a viscous cycle, and it’s a huge. fucking. mess. But seeing some of these mages, and hearing about Feynriel’s dreams, I admit that I’ve started to feel that maybe the circles aren’t such a terrible place. Although the circle here sounds especially terrible,” Hawke said.

“I feel for mages, to be burdened with such a curse. And obviously not all mages are like those in Tevinter, but they all face the same temptations and the same dangers, and thus are all a potential threat to all others,” Fenris said.

“Fenris?” Hawke asked. “Do mages in Tevinter ever turn in to abominations? I guess, obviously they do sometimes, but is it common? We’ve seen it here recently with all these blood mages, but every time you speak of Tevinter mages, you only ever mention their greed and abuse of power. You’ve never mentioned any who became abominations. But with the kind of freedom they have, I would have expected to hear stories about abominations simply running wild in the streets every day.”

“Mm. True. Honestly, I’m not sure how common it is. The only ones I’ve ever seen were ones that willingly became them. They purposely summoned a demon into themselves,” Fenris said.

“In all my years, before moving to Kirkwall, all the apostates that we knew, none of them ever became abominations. And in Tevinter where mages live freely, you say that they only become them if they are seeking to become one. It seems to me that, generally speaking, becoming an abomination is actually a rare thing. Here, I think the issue is that conflict between the mages and the templars is so great, that it’s driving both sides to use extreme measures. And in Tevinter it sounds like abuse of power, both magical and political, is the real issue,” Hawke said.

“Hm. Perhaps. But I would not risk the lives of innocent people on an unconfirmed possibility,” Fenris said.

“I said I would turn Bethany over to the templars if it meant saving her life,” Hawke said. “But I honestly don’t know if I could.”

“It speaks highly of you that you are so loyal and protective of your sister,” Fenris said. “It is very admirable, even if it is possibly foolish.”

“I wish you would tell her that,” Hawke sighed.

“I believe she knows that you would do anything to protect her. In time I believe her anger will dissipate and she will see what you were trying to say,” Fenris said.

“I’m so tired of mages and templars, Fenris,” Hawke said. Fenris laughed.

“Indeed,” he replied.

They talked a little longer until Hawke started to get cold, her butt completely numb from sitting on the hard stone street. Her energy was quickly fading, and her eye lids felt heavy. Hawke wished Fenris a good night, and made her way back to Gamlen’s house.


	8. Qunari Blood

Hawke laid a poster down on the table that night for their meeting, and explained what she had learned from Seneschal Bran.

“The Viscount’s son was kidnapped? Oh that’s terrible!” Merrill said.

“The details of what actually happened were all a bit vague for my liking,” Aveline said. “But the Viscount wants his son dragged back, regardless.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with the Qunari?” Fenris said.

“Seamus was kidnapped by a Qunari,” Bethany replied.

“It does not seem likely to me that the Arishok would kidnap the Viscount’s son,” Fenris said.

“Like I said, the details were vague,” Aveline agreed.

“But the Winters are eager for the job,” Hawke said. “You remember Ginnis?”

“Ugh, that bitch?” Anders said. Hawke nodded.

“Because this is the Viscount’s son, I’m forbidden from being involved. All of the guard are,” Aveline said. “It shouldn’t be that way, but I can understand why the Viscount needs it to be that way.”

“Anders, are you busy? Given who the boy is, I’d like to take you along with us, in case he’s injured,” Hawke said. “I’d like all hands-on deck, if everyone is available?”

“Sorry Hawke,” Isabela said. “I have other plans today. Let me know it goes though.”

“You have only to ask, and I’ll be there,” Anders replied.

“I’m in,” Varric said.

“As am I,” Fenris agreed.

“Oo, oo, can I come too?” Merrill asked.

“Yes, but no blood magic please,” Hawke said.

“I doubt I would even need to use it. It doesn’t sound like this will be that hard, no?” Merrill said.

Varric, Hawke, & Bethany met at Fenris’s house to stock up on supplies before they headed out to the Wounded Coast.

“What’s all of this?” Varric asked, as he leafed through a number of different scrawlings and notes, and random bits of paper sitting on Fenris’s table. Bethany and Hawke were in the kitchen packing up supplies.

“I’ve been collecting notes and receipts to practice reading,” Fenris said.

“Ooooh, so you’re the one Hawke has been teaching?” Varric said. Hawke & Bethany returned with the packs full, and ready to go.

“You didn’t mention that I was the one who you are tutoring?” Fenris asked, turning to Hawke and feeling hurt.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted others to know or not,” Hawke said.

“Are you ashamed of the fact that I can’t read?” Fenris asked. “There is nothing shameful about something that is no fault of your own.” Fenris was audibly upset.

“What? No. Of course I’m not ashamed. And I know it’s not your fault, but people feel embarrassed by things that aren’t their fault all the time. It simply wasn’t my information to share. I figured if you wanted others to know, then it was your place to tell them, not mine. I was simply trying to respect your privacy, in whatever form that looks like,” Hawke said.

“That is … very considerate, and unexpected. I apologize,” Fenris said.

“You don’t think that I’m considerate?” Hawke asked, a little hurt.

“Simply being treated with consideration is unexpected. I am not accustomed to it, same as I am not accustomed to the generosity that you continue to show me. Again, I apologize. I have an unfortunate habit of expecting the worst of people,” Fenris said.

“It looks like you’re progressing pretty well Elf,” Varric said, looking at the papers.

There was a knock at the door. Merrill and Anders had arrived; they were ready to head out.

They found Seamus, and Ginnis, on the Wounded Coast in a clearing down by the water. A Qunari fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood as the group approached. Seamus fell to his knees beside the Qunari. _Surely Ginnis wouldn_ _’t hurt the boy?_ Hawke wondered to herself.

“… the world’s rid of one more Qunari - easier than I expected,” Ginnis spat on the dead body. “Call the men back,” she shouted. “We’ve got an appointment with the Viscount. Isn’t that right Seamus?”

“Ashaad … you killed him. You … you vashedan bitch!” Seasmus said.

“He’s got the _bitch_ part right anyway,” Anders whispered as they drew nearer.

“Is that one of _their_ words?! See, that’s why you need to be dragged home. You’re playing too nice with those things. I’ll wager you’ve gone even further than that, haven’t you _brat_!” Ginnis sneered.

“ _That_ _’s_ uncalled for,” Anders snarled.

“Leave the boy alone,” Hawke commanded.

“What’s this? Competition?” Ginnis growled. “ _You_ _’re_ too late. _I_ have already claimed him.”

“Serah,” Seamus said, standing up and wiping away his tears. “If I must go back to my father, so be it. But I will _not_ see these _murderers_ rewarded!”

“Spoiled shit!” Ginnis said. “I’ll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!”

Ginnis drew her blades. There were about forty Winters mercenaries in total, with reinforcements on the way. Including Hawke, there were only six of them. The Winters were skilled, but their advantage was numbers not skill. It took more time that Hawke would have liked, but the Winters fell one and all, pissing off yet _another_ mercenary company.

“Going against us is … unhealthy,” Varric whispered.

Seamus thanked Hawke, and after allowing Anders to confirm that the boy was alright, the group headed back to Kirkwall to return the boy to his father.

“Right this way, Seamus,” the Seneschal directed and opened the Viscount’s office door.

“Father,” Seamus said.

“My boy! I thought I had lost you,” the Viscount said.

“Enough, father!” Seamus said.

“Allow me to present Serah Hawke, your excellency,” the Seneschal interjected. “She fulfilled the bounty.”

“You have my gratitude,” the Viscount said. “I hope you encountered no great difficulties on my son’s behalf.”

“There were … complications,” Hawke said. “But I was privileged to keep your son from harm.”

“I was told the Winters had involved themselves. Was there no other way to avoid an incident?” the Viscount asked.

“They murdered my friend,” Seamus answered angrily. “Where is the concern for that?!”

“It was my understanding that you were captured alone, foolishly traipsing about the coast as you do,” the Viscount replied.

“I was not _captured_ ,” Seamus said. “I was with Ashaad, the Qunari. They are not monsters to be feared! If you would just try to understand, others would do so as well.”

“Better that you were thought abducted than to have their influence suspected in my own family … benign or not, it’s too much,” the Viscount said. “It’s enough that with every day I receive more reports of Tal-Vashoth attacking people on the coast.”

“There have been more Tal-Vashoth attacks?” Hawke asked. “I thought I had dealt with all of them already.”

“Perhaps more continue to leave the Qun, I know not,” the Viscount sighed. “I know I have no right to ask. You have already done so much for me, but you seem to be the only one that I may be able to rely on. Hawke, is it? Would you deal with these Tal-Vashoth once more? You will be rewarded, I assure you.”

“I will do what I can. Hopefully this will take care of the problem, once and for all,” Hawke said. They bowed and exited the Viscount’s office, where a heated debate between father and son continued behind closed doors.

“Here is your reward, Serah,” the Seneschal said. “I will have another payment for you once the Tal-Vashoth have been dealt with.”

“More Tal-Vashoth?” Varric said more than asked as they descended the stairs and exited the building.

“Not today,” Hawke said.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Bethany exclaimed. “I already have sand in places that sand should never be, and I’m sweating so much that I think my clothes have become one with my skin.”

“Try wearing heavy armor,” Hawke said. “My clothes are taking a hot, sweaty bath under all of this. We’ll go tomorrow. We’ll head out in the morning to try to beat the heat.”

They left the city a few hours after sunrise the next day. Luckily the number of Tal-Vashoth were minimal compared to the first group they had routed out. They weren’t entrenched in the caverns again, though they had a sizable camp on an overlook some ways up on the coast.

“This part is my favorite,” Isabela said as they began picking through the bodies and the camp for anything salvageable. “You know, it always surprises me that Qunari wear jewelry. Just seems too … impractical for them.”

“What’s this?” Hawke asked, picking up a jar and uncorking it. Inside appeared to be thick, red paint. “I think I found the paint that they use on their bodies and faces.”

The others were busy scouring the rest of the Tal-Vashoth camp for anything useful. Fenris was looking over the weapons they had found, Varric was looking for tools or antiques, rare items, and Anders was hoping to find some potions: healing, stamina, injury. It was unlikely he would find any lyrium potions, but he was hopeful nonetheless.

“Vitaar,” Fenris said, without turning around. “It’s actually a form of body armor, though it’s poisonous to all but the Qunari.” Hawke’s eyes widened at Fenris’ last statement, and Fenris spun around quickly when Hawke didn’t reply. She had already applied a wide band of the red vitaar across her face, crossing the bridge of her nose.

“Hawke! Wipe it off quickly!” Fenris shouted. Anders, hearing Fenris, quickly made his way over to Hawke.

“It won’t come off,” Hawke said, trying to rub it off. “But, I feel fine.” She said with a sheepish smile. Anders inspected her face, and the jar, as though it was going to give him any sort of clue.

“They use a special soap to remove it,” Fenris said. “Everyone, search the camp for a bar of soap. Typically brown in color, sometimes has blue flecs mixed in.”

“Fenris, do you know what they put in the vitaar, if we can’t find the soap?” Anders asked.

“There are many kinds, as well as colors, of vitaar. Some use snake or spider venom, other use poisonous plants or berries. Wyvern venom can be used, though it’s harder to come by. Deepstalker and dragon’s blood are also sometimes used, but only these Tal-Vashoth would know what was in this particular one,” he said.

“Ugh, that doesn’t help,” Anders said.

When they didn’t find any bars of the special soap, they had no choice but to head back to Kirkwall, with the plan to have Fenris go and ask the Arishok if they would sell them one of the bars of soap.

“Guys, really, I feel fine. I’m starting to wonder if maybe this isn’t vitaar, but something else,” Hawke said as they made their way down the steep and sandy slope, and that wound and eventually joined the return road to Kirkwall.

“No, I smelled it Hawke,” Fenris said. “It’s definitely vitaar. And you’re truly not feeling anything, at all?”

“My face is a little tingly, but that’s all,” she said. “Kind of like when I get drunk.”

“Hawke,” Anders said angrily.

“That is not a good sign,” Fenris said. Bethany paused and turned around to scold her sister, but what she saw erased it from her mind.

“Charlie!” Bethany exclaimed.

“What!?” Hawke asked, getting perturbed at her own foolishness, and the way everyone was carrying on about the ordeal.

“Your lips, they’re turning blue!” Bethany said. Everyone came to an abrupt halt.

“I feel fine,” Hawke said. “Please stop worrying over nothing.” But she faltered on her next step as her legs began to shake and fill with jelly. Anders caught her, and she tried to upright herself and take another step, but she instead she collapsed completely.

Hawke lay in Anders lap. “She’s burning up and … her skin is hardening?” Anders said, turning to Fenris, confused.

“Say that again?!” Isabela said.

“Vitaar is a form of armor that the Qunari use. It gives their skin the strength of steel, but without losing its flexibility as skin,” Fenris said.

“Well I think it’s hardening her lungs too,” Anders said. “Her breath is incredibly shallow, dangerously shallow.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Varric cursed, beginning to pace.

“What do we do?” Bethany asked, beginning to cry.

“It’s going to be ok, Sunshine,” Varric lied, trying to convince the both of them that everything would be ok.

“We can’t wait,” Anders said. “If we don’t have that soap, we’ll have to get the vitaar off her face another way.” He looked at Fenris, and he knew what Anders was implying. Fenris bent down and pulled out a small dagger. He knelt over Hawk’e face, and as gently as he could, he scraped the vitaar off of Hawke’s cheeks and nose.

“Careful,” Anders said harshly. Fenris ignored him, and focused on what he was doing. He managed to remove most of it, and wiped his blade off in the sand. Anders insisted on carrying Hawke back to Kirkwall, in her full armor, and refused to let anyone see what a strain the weight was on him. They all crowded into Gamlen’s home.

“What’s going on?” Gamlen asked gruffly as they poured into Hawke & Bethany’s room.

“Hawke put some of that poisonous Qunari paint on her face,” Isabela said.

“Of course she did,” Gamlen replied, and rolled his eyes.

“We removed it as best we could,” Anders said, which earned him a sharp glare from Fenris. “We’re going to the Qunari compound now to see if they have an antidote for it.”

“ _We_?” Fenris asked.

“I’m the healer, am I not?” Anders said. “If anyone is going to understand the nature of the poison and it’s antidote, it would be me.”

“Correct. You are the healer and your patient is here. Varric and I will go to the Qunari compound,” Fenris said.

“Fine,” Anders agreed. “But you had better get that antidote, or so help me …”

“Let’s go kid,” Varric said, and the two left for the compound.

“Anders, I want to help,” Bethany said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “What can I do?”

“Bethany, I need you to make a restoration potion,” Anders instructed. “I should have all the ingredients we need back at the clinic.”

“Alright, I can do that,” Bethany nodded.

“But you’re going to need to infuse it with a little bit of magic,” Anders said. “It’s not easy. I haven’t had a chance to show you before, so you’re going to have to learn on the fly today.” Bethany flew out the door to go gather the necessary herbs, oils, and jars from Anders clinic.

~

“It was foolish of her to do this, without first understanding the nature of vitaar,” the Arishok said. A valid point, which no one disputed.

“Unfortunately, there is no antidote. The Qunari have no need for such an item, and it would be impossible for us to tell what was in the specific vitaar that she smeared on her face,” the Arishok said.

“Would it help if you were able to examine the vitaar?” Fenris asked, holding out the jar. The Arishok nodded and another Qunari stepped forward, took the jar, and uncorked it. He gave it a quick wiff.

“Hm. Possibly Deathroot or spider venom,” the Qunari said. “Both have the same chemical reaction to the other ingredients, and thus the same odor. It is impossible for us to know which.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said. “I would humbly ask one more thing: a trade,” Fenris said, “for a small piece of the soap that you use to remove vitaar.”

“Hmmm,” the Arishok said, thinking it over. “It is impressive that she has lasted as long as she has. … I will grant you this request, for dealing with the Tal-Vashoth was our task, but you have performed it in our place. But know that even with this, she is not likely to survive.”

Yet another Qunari stepped forward and handed Varric a small bar wrapped in brown cheese cloth. They thanked the Arishok, and quickly left the compound. When they returned, Hawke was even paler than before. Bethany was pouring a small sip of the restoration potion into Hawke’s mouth, careful that she didn’t pour too much and drown Hawke. Anders quickly, and oh so gently, washed the rest of the vitaar off of Hawke’s face. The skin underneath was red and burned.

“Spider venom or deathroot?” Anders said. “They have completely different antidotes. Generally spider venom requires some of the same venom to produce the antidote, but we don’t know what kind of spider and finding one, and killing it would take time that we don’t have.”

“I can go see if Martin has any spider venom, he may even have an antidote,” Isabela.

“Sure,” Anders said.

“And if it’s deathroot?” Varric asked.

“Deathroot causes the body to seize, to … contract, constrict. It’s easy to counteract, but you have to be extremely quick. Bethany, the white jars in my clinic, can you go and bring me one? Also, grab a small jar of leeches,” Anders said.

“Leeches?!” Leandra squealed.

“They’re nasty critters, but they’re great at sucking toxins out of the blood stream,” Anders explained.

“What about your magic?” Fenris snapped. “Is there nothing you can do, even with the added power of being an abomination?”

Anders eyes and body flickered with an ethereal blue fire that was gone the next instant. “I am doing everything I can, magical and mundane. She is alive _only_ because of me.”

“That’s it,” Leandra said, startled by Anders glowing outburst. The last thing that she needed was for Hawke’s questionable companions to get into a brawl inside their tiny hovel. She kicked everyone out of the house, except for Anders who stayed by Hawke’s side all night. Isabela returned with some spider venom antidote, and Bethany returned with the jars Anders requested. In the meantime, everyone waited for news back in Varric’s room at the Hanged Man.

“Looks like she’s going to have a scar,” Bethany said holding her mug, and wiping away another tear.

“I’ve heard that most die almost instantly,” Fenris said.

“Really, elf?” Varric said, shooting him an angry glare.

“I didn’t mean …“ Fenris said, realizing how that had sounded to everyone else. “I only meant that it’s remarkable that she has lived this long, and that it is also reason to believe that she may, that is, probably will survive.”

“This is fucked up,” Isabela said. “Hawke, the toughest woman I know. A badass, a scoundrel, a bleeding heart of gold. She can almost single handedly take out an entire mercenary company, and she’s going to die from a bit of makeup?”

“Shit,” Varric cursed.

It was a long night. Fenris and Bethany fell asleep sitting at Varric’s table. Isablea fell asleep in Varric’s bed even though her room was just down the hall, and Varric didn’t sleep. For one, sleeping in a wooden chair was impossible for the dwarf. It really should be impossible for anyone, he thought. Secondly, Rinvani had taken his bed. But most importantly, his anxiety over Hawke is what kept him awake. He decided to use the time to go through bills and reports, but even then he could hardly focus on the work.

~

“How is she?” Bethany asked when she returned the next morning. Varric and Fenris had gone with her to check on Hawke.

“She’s stable, for now,” Anders said.

“You don’t look so great yourself, Blondie,” Varric said.

“He hasn’t slept a wink,” Leandra said sweetly, setting the table with a bowl of porridge and cup of warm apple cider for Anders. He sat down happily, barely able to fight the sleep away long enough to eat.

“I did everything I could,” Anders said, but he looked and sounded defeated. “But that isn’t saying much. There’s very little, magically, that can be done at this point.”

“What was that putrid juice you gave her?” Gamlen asked.

“Goat milk mixed with honey, elfroot, and tumeric,” Anders said. Gamlen made a disgusted face and shook his head, and left the house for the day … to go do whatever it is that Gamlen does - a question that was never answered.

“How long before …” Varric asked.

“Her pulse will either strengthen, or weaken, over the next few hours. I will give her a couple more sips of the goat milk in about an hour, to help keep her strength up as much as possible. Even if her pulse gets stronger and she pulls through, she’s still going to be pretty weak for the next few days. She’ll need to eat simple things like porridge, for a few days,” Anders said, instructing the last part to Leandra. Leandra nodded and returned to sit with Hawke.

“But she’s likely going to have that scar for the rest of her life. I have a magical salve that is meant to help heal scars, but it works with varying degree, and for some it doesn’t work at all. We’ll just have to see,” he said.

“I’ll get started on writing a few different alternative stories for Hawke to pick from, about where she got that scar,” Varric said.

Varric and Fenris left, both falling asleep as soon as they returned to their beds. Anders left shortly thereafter, and he too immediately fell asleep when he lay his weary body down on his cot.

As you might have guessed, Hawke pulled through. She was eating porridge by nightfall, and was even out of bed by the next day, despite Anders’ very explicit and very angry orders for her to stay in bed.

“Hawke, shouldn’t you be in bed, resting?” Fenris asked as Hawke gently sat down at Varric’s table.

“I can’t lay there any longer,” she said. “I’m going crazy laying there in the hovel, staring at the shit brown walls and breathing in that stuffy air, listening to Gamlen whine and complain constantly. I need to move around a little. Don’t worry, I’m being careful.”

It was still early in the morning, before Anders had arrived for her daily checkup. Upon discovering that she was not only out of bed, but had left the house and made her way to the Hanged Man, Anders furiously marched to the Hanged Man after her.

“Hawke!” Anders shouted, entering Varric’s room. “I told you to stay in bed!”

“Anders, I’m alright. I just needed to move around for a little bit,” Hawke said.

“I am explicitly aware of your condition, and you are in fact _not_ alright, Hawke,” Anders said.

“Please Anders,” Hawke asked.

“He’s right,” Bethany said. “You really should be laying down sis.”

“Just a little bit longer,” Hawke said.

“You’re going back,” Anders commanded, “even if I have to drag you back myself.”

“Absolutely not!” Fenris said, stepping between Anders and Hawke. “Hawke is a grown woman and is capable of making her own decisions, foolish as they may be. And _no one_ is going to use magic to make anyone do anything, do I make myself clear?”

“Get out of my way, Fenris,” Anders snapped. Justice was leaking out of Anders, just as glowing lyrium was beginning to leak out of Fenris.

“That’s enough!” Isabela shouted, slamming her hand down on the table. The command in her voice startled everyone. “You will stop this right now, or I swear on Andraste’s holy tits that I will keel haul the both of you.”

“The elf is right,” Varric said. “You can’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, Blondie.”

Defeated, Anders slouched and Justice faded away. “Please, Hawke. I’m begging you,” Anders said with such desperation and sorrow. “Please don’t throw away all of my efforts to save you. Please. You are still dangerously ill.”

“You’ve made your argument, now it’s time for you to go,” Fenris said. Anders didn’t put up a fight. He turned around and left.

“Where did that come from, Rivaini?” Varric asked.

“What? I did used to be the Captain of a ship, you know,” she replied.

Hawke stood up slowly. “Alright Bethany, let’s head back,” she sighed.

“You’re going back? After all that?” Varric asked.

“I can’t stay here. Not after hearing Anders’ plea, and seeing the genuine concern in his eyes,” Hawke said. “I’ll be a good patient. Or, at least I’ll try.”

Hawke put her arm around Bethany to steady her step, and they made their way out of the Hanged Man. Fenris followed behind them to make sure they made home it alright.

“What does ‘keel haul’ mean?” Merrill asked.

“It’s a nautical term,” Isabela said. “It’s a harsh punishment, reserved only for the greatest crimes. Nasty, but effective. When you keel haul a man, you tie ha rope around him and throw him over the bow of the ship, and drag him underwater, to the stern of the ship, before pulling him back on board.”

“But couldn’t they drown?!” Merrill asked, shocked and horrified.

“Yes, and many do. Even if they don’t drown, there are still the barnacles that are encrusted on the bottom of the ship, that scrape and shred your flesh. Many die from blood loss, or most commonly, from infection,” Isabela said.

“Oh that’s just awful,” Merrill said.

It was five days before Hawke returned to her normal strength.


	9. Blood Soaked Memories

It was at least a week before Hawke was mostly back to her normal strength. Anders had given her clearance to return to “work” but highly recommended that she stick to easier jobs for another week or so. She applied Anders scar-healing salve every night before bed, but it was having only a mild effect on her red, angry burn. She was just glad to be able to walk around again, and to get out of Gamlen’s house, but she still found herself tiring quickly.

The anniversary of the Battle of Ostagar followed soon after. The memories rippled forward with strange force. The simple, uneventful day in Kirkwall was overshadowed by unseen clouds for Hawke & Aveline. They had agreed to meet at the docks that evening for a drink.

It was a cool evening, a steady breeze rushing over the water. The dock workers had only just finished for the day, leaving the docks mostly quiet as the sun set over the horizon. Hawke & Aveline sat at the end of a empty jetty, legs hanging over the edge. The waves crashed against the stone wall several feet below. Seagulls screeched intermittently, sadly ruining the quiet they were looking for.

Aveline took a sip from her flask and passed it to Hawke. Hawke took a sip, paused, and took another sip before passing it back. The light breeze that washed over of them was soothing - if only it was strong enough to lift their burdens from their shoulders. Aveline sighed heavily and tucked the flask away.

“I wish I could stay longer, but I have a patrol in Hightown tonight,” Aveline said.

“I understand,” Hawke said.

“I wish we could do this more often,” Aveline said. She took one last look at the setting sun before she turned and left the docks.

Hawke remained at the end of the dock, feet dangling and wind gently tugging at her loose pony tail. She closed her eyes and tried to wish everything away. She tried to wish away the darkspawn and the blight, the battle of Ostagar, the loss of their home, and Carver’s death. She tried to wish away the exhausting and desperate flee through the Wilds; the stuffy, seasick, wet and cold, miserable boat road to Kirkwall. She tried to wish away the year working for Athenril. She tried to wish away Gamlen’s hovel, his gambling and drinking habits. She tried to wish away the templars and blood mages. She tried to wish away Bethany’s fears and her mother’s depression. She tried to wish Kirkwall away. She kept wishing things away, until there was almost nothing left.

“Hawke?” Anders said. Hawke nearly jumped out of her skin. His footsteps boomed on the creaking boards as he approached her. “What are you doing out here? Alone?”

“I’m just … “ Hawke didn’t know how to finished the sentence.

“I completely understand,” he said, and sat down next to her. “Anything in particular on your mind?”

“I suppose mostly I’m thinking about leaving Fereldan and coming here,” Hawke said.

“I miss Fereldan too,” Anders said and looked up at the sky. The sun was just dipping below the water.

“Are you originally from Fereldan?” Hawke asked.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I grew up in a small village not too far from Redcliffe,” Anders said.

“You know, I just realized that I don’t really know much about your life before you came to Kirkwall,” Hawke said.

“Mm. Not much to tell, really. I lived in a village, was taken away to the circle, got away, was conscripted into the wardens, left them, and came to Kirkwall,” Anders said.

“How old were you when you were taken to the circle?” Hawke asked. Anders sighed. He had known that he wasn’t going to be able to get away with such s short summary.

“I was twelve. It was my father who actually turned me in to the templars. I guess I’ve always been a bit rebellious, now that I think about it. I tried to escape the Fereldan Circle at least a dozen times. _Technically_ I did escape, but I was always found and brought back,” Anders said.

“I thought they dealt with such matters pretty harshly?” Hawke asked.

“I was still a boy, well, for most of them. The first enchanter realized that I was no threat; I was simply a boy who wanted to go home,” he explained.

“Is that where you met Karl?” Hawke asked.

“Yes. I never felt like I belonged at the circle. It was never home. It was cold and unfeeling, and that just wasn’t me. But Karl was different. He was a few years older, and a very talented mage. He had a wicked sense of humor. I think it was his small way of rebelling against the circle and the templars. You know? He simply refused to lose who he was. When I met Karl, that was the first time I felt home at the circle. We were best friends. Later, we … our friendship developed deeper, beyond friendship. He is the first person I ever loved. Well, I loved my family obviously. But you know what I mean.” Hawke nodded.

“I was devastated when he was transferred to Kirkwall. He was the only thing that could soothe my rage. He was the only reason to play the good mage and stay at the circle. So I escaped again. Good thing too. That was just before Uldred, … ah one of the mages at the tower, took over and practically destroyed it. Blood magic and demons everywhere, as I hear. I had been attempting to reach Kirkwall and had gotten pretty far, before I was captured. But instead of taking me back to the Fereldan Circle, they kept me in solitary confinement in Kibloch Hold for an entire year. The most company I had was that of the tower mouser, Mr. Wiggums. I eventually managed to escape, but,” he sighed. “Well, that’s when I became a Grey Warden. The Warden-Commander, ah you probably know her as the Hero of Fereldan, conscripted me rather than turn me over to the templars. We became close friends actually.”

“What?! You know the Hero of Fereldan? And you’re friends?! Why leave the Grey Wardens then?” Hawke asked.

“It’s … complicated. I had merged with Justice by then, and even though I was already conscripted into the wardens, the templars weren’t ready to let me go so easily. Somehow they discovered that I had merged with Justice, and they confronted the wardens about it. I was forced to run again,” Anders said.

“And so you finally made it to Kirkwall, only to have Karl made Tranquil. Anders. I am truly sorry. I can’t imagine,” Hawke said.

“It’s okay,” Anders said. “He’s at peace now. He’s free of that prison. I just wish I … wish we …” He stared up at the sky as the stars were coming out. Hawke lightly rubbed his back. He laid back on the dock, losing himself in the stars above. Hawke did the same.

“How are you so strong, Hawke? You’ve lost more than I have and yet I sometimes feel like it’s all I can do to keep moving forward,” Anders said.

“Truthfully …” there was a long pause. “I rarely feel strong at all,” Hawke confessed. “It’s mostly bravado. Because if I think about it too much, I begin to unravel.”

“You said something similar to me once, that you know what it’s like to have someone accuse you of being weak. Who could ever accuse you of being weak?” Anders asked.

“I think I probably accuse myself of it more than others. But that wasn’t always the case. Lothering was a … sanctuary in many ways. It was so far removed, so far south, and so close to the Korcari Wilds that we weren’t part of normal or civilized society. It was a small village, and everyone generally looked after each other. Elves had a better life in Lothering than in Denerim, and apostates … they weren’t welcome per se, but they weren’t as quickly condemned either. Most put up with them, or even happily kept their secret in exchange for their servcies. But while Lothering was more accepting in certain ways, there was still a limit. The acceptance in Lothering was mostly due to the necessity of life. The area was wild and savage and people accepted that everyone did what they had to, to survive there. So while it might be more acceptable for women to take up what might be typically considered a man’s job, being a soldier was not one of those. It was not _necessary_ to anyone’s survival for the women to join the militia. My parents were always supportive, but not everyone was. Particularly the other children. Even Carver, honestly. He usually refrained from commenting either way, but every now and then, particularly when he lost his temper, he would make jabs about how women weren’t strong enough to be soldiers. It was the opposite when I arrived in Denerim. I can’t say that women were overly encouraged to join the army, but they were welcomed and accepted a great deal more than in Lothering. Especially once you proved yourself. I spent most of my childhood fighting back these fears that maybe they were right. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe I never would be strong enough. Maybe I should give up my dream of joining the army. Unfortunately, I don’t think I ever really got over those fears.” Hawke looked up at the night sky. The moon was coming out and air was cooling rapidly. She hadn’t dressed warm enough for this; she wrapped her arms around herself tighter to keep warm.

“Actually,” Hawke laughed, remembering her childhood, “my dream was to join the Grey Wardens, not the army.”

“What?!” Anders said, turning his head to look at her in the moonlight.

“Haha. I still remember when I announced it to my parents, that Peyton and I were going to join the Grey Wardens. Mother absolutely forbid it. She knew that it meant a short life. What I didn’t expect, was my father’s reaction. I can only remember a handful of times where he was actually angry, and he was … positively furious. I still don’t understand why he was so upset. But my dream was thoroughly shut down,” Hawke sighed. “Mother said I should join the army instead. It was still very brave and honorable, but I wouldn’t have to go die alone in the Deep Roads. Plus, then I could have a family and give her grandchildren and all of that.”

“Maker, Hawke,” Anders exhaled heavily. “I still don’t want to be a warden.”

“Does it … hurt? … now that the blight is over? Do you still hear them or … dream about them, I guess?” Hawke asked.

Anders took a deep breath and thought about it. “It is quieter, for sure. It’s no longer constant either. I haven’t had any dreams of an archdemon since the last one was killed. But yes, it’s all still there.”

“Does the blight, or the taint I guess, does it hurt?” Hawke asked.

“The greatest pain is when you actually go through the joining ritual. After that … occasionally the dreams cause pain. But since the blight ended, no, it hasn’t caused any pain,” Anders explained. They were silent for a time before Anders had to ask.

“Why on earth did you want to join the wardens?” he asked.

“I wanted to be a great hero, exactly like the Hero of Fereldan. Peyton and I were going to be glorious heroes. They were going to write songs about us. We used run through the forest closest to our houses, waving our swords - which were just long branches - shouting ‘for the Glory of the Grey Wardens!’ When we joined the army, we used to joke and tell people that we were in it for the Glory. It was our way of holding onto the wardens, I think,” Hawke said.

“Would you still want to join the wardens?” Anders asked.

“Hm. I have to say, fighting darkspawn is a lot less glorious than we pictured as children. After Ostagar, I don’t know,” Hawke said. “But I have my family to take care of, so it no longer matters anyway.”

“You were at Ostagar?” Anders asked surprised.

“Yeah. Me, Carver, and Aveline,” Hawke said. “The absolute carnage and devastation … I’ve never seen anything like it before. I know the massive numbers of darkspawn was because of the blight, but Wardens still have to face constant and heavy losses. I really don’t know if I could do that.”

“You don’t talk about Carver much,” Anders said.

“Hm. Carver was … I don’t really know, to be honest. He and Bethany are several years younger. Mother and father cared deeply for both of them, and mother dotted on them constantly. But Carver - it was like he always had something to prove. Like he had to prove he was worth our love, like he didn’t get enough? I don’t know. It got worse just before our father died. I never understood it, and he refused to talk about it. He would either shrug it off, or say that as usual I had it all wrong and I was projecting my own problems onto him. I … I don’t know. It was painful to love him. He was family, so of course I loved him, but it was like hugging a sack full of broken glass. He never would let anyone in.

Honestly, I think it started after an incident with templars when we were kids. We hadn’t been in Lothering long. We were all out playing and Bethany was trying to show off some of the magic father had been teaching her. A band of templars came through. We were all alone; we had wandered off too far. The templars stopped and spoke to us - asked who we were, and if we were new, where we lived, etc. They didn’t seem to suspect any of us of being apostates. I think they simply realized that we were new. They were either trying to be friendly, or they were simply trying to get some understanding of a new family who had just moved to the area - maybe both. Still, we were all trembling in our shoes. I did my best to stand tall and confident, like father always told me. Bethany and Carver stood behind me; Bethany was clinging to my dress. One of the templars asked Carver a question, but he couldn’t respond. He was too terrified. He … he wet his pants and cried all the way home. After that, he just, wasn’t the same anymore. I think he felt like he had failed to protect his family, and he was eternally trying to make up for it. There was nothing to make up for. I wish he could have understood that,” Hawke said.

“I’m so sorry Hawke,” Anders said.

“I still haven’t cried. Did you know that? What kind of terrible person doesn’t cry when their own brother dies?” Hawke asked.

“Everyone grieves in their own way,” Anders said.

“You sound like Aveline,” Hawke said.

“Do you two ever talk about Ostagar?” Anders asked.

“Words don’t exist to communicate the marks it left on us. We simply drink in silence,” Hawke said.

“You know, I just realized that I haven’t talked to anyone about Karl before,” Anders said.

“I’m glad you felt you could trust me with something so personal. And I hope you know that I’m here, anytime you need someone to listen,” Hawke said.

“That means more to me than you could ever know,” Anders said. Anders reached over and lightly traced the recent scar on Hawke’s nose. “I wish I could do more to heal it.”

“I take pride in my battle scars,” Hawke beamed. Anders laughed. “But it’s actually a lot better than it was at first. It goes without saying, but you’re truly a miracle worker. And I can never thank you enough for saving my stupid ass. Maker what a fool I can be sometimes. I’m in your debt.” The moon light reflected in Hawke’s eyes - even in the night their beauty shone like a beacon, Anders thought.

“One day I may come to collect on that,” Anders said.

“Charlie? Is that you?” Bethany shouted into the dark, startling them both.

“Here, Bethany,” Hawke said sitting up.

Bethany carried a small lantern as she cautiously made her way over the dock planks to Hawke, with Lady walking at her side.

“Anders,” Bethany said. “What are you guys doing out here? Charlie, I thought you were meeting with Aveline?” Hawke could hear the concern in Bethany’s voice.

“Aveline left at sunset,” Hawke said. “She has a patrol tonight.”

“I was in the area when I saw Hawke sitting alone,” Anders said. “But I should be going. I need to run an errand before heading back to the clinic.”

“Mother wanted us to pick something up for her,” Bethany said.

“This late at night? What on earth could be so important?” Hawke asked.

“I tried to reason with her, but she insisted. She gave me an address and said that a woman was expecting us to pick up her order tonight,” Bethany explained.

“Alright. I guess we better get going then. Have a good night Anders,” Hawke said.

They were beginning to leave when Hawke noticed something strange. “Bethany, what’s that?” She asked as she pointed. The lantern light had illuminated some curious marking carved into the side of one of the walls lining the docks. They almost seemed to glow in the darkness, but they old and worn, and there was something shoved in the crack right beneath the carvings. Bethany skillfully pried it free.

“It’s a note. But this parchment is old, very old,” Bethany said.

“What’s it say?” Hawke asked.

_We went to the center of it all. F. is dead and I am alone and injured. I must go back and put an end to it. The maddening thing is there still is no answer. But the Forgotten One, or demon, or whatever it is, must be destroyed. I fear one may already be unbound. I foreswear my oaths. The magister_ _’s lore must be burned and the ashes scattered. No good can come of it. And Maker help us if someone does answer what we could not._

_\- The Band of Three_

“What is that all about?” Bethany asked.

“Got me,” Hawke said. “We should keep it and see what Aveline or Varric can dig up on this ‘Band of Three.’”

The address was for a house in upper Lowtown. The woman roughly shoved a basket into Hawke’s hands and nearly slammed the door shut behind them. But they had what they came for, and so returned home.

“It’s … a bunch of feathers and ribbon,” Hawke said, peering into the basket. “What does mother need with all of this?”


	10. The Feast of Satinalia

The next morning Hawke agreed to take Bethany to gather herbs at the Wounded Coast. It was a cool morning - perfect for trekking around the beach. They spent several hours hunting for herbs and rummaging through washed up crates and abandoned camp sites. But they returned to find Gamlen’s home in a unique sort of disarray.

“What’s all this?” Hawke asked.

“It’s the Feast of Satinalia!” Leandra exclaimed.

“The what?” Bethany asked.

“The Feast of Satinalia isn’t for another …. what, two weeks?” Gamlen grumbled.

“Precisely! I’ve got so much to do, and so little time,” Leandra said.

“Mother …” Bethany said.

“The Feast of Satinalia is _the_ festival of the year in Kirkwall,” Leandra explained.

“Is that what all the fuss was about last year?” Bethany asked.

“You girls were away on some job, and we couldn’t afford anything as it was,” Leandra said.

“We can’t afford it now,” Gamlen said, marching through the house, stepping over the piles of decorations that Leandra had laying everywhere.

“But I’ve been saving up for this year’s Feast of Satinalia,” Leandra smiled.

“How is it different than in Fereldan?” Bethany asked.

“There’s a grand parade through Hightown led by the Viscount and his family, and the Viscount dresses up like the Court Fool. There are jesters and acrobats, and the circle always puts on a delightful show. Everyone dresses in bright and bold colors. Each night the beaches are littered with large bonfires and boar roasts. Oh there’s dancing and music,” Leandra said with joy.

“Leandra,” Gamlen said, “the circle stopped performing shows a few years back.”

“Oh,” Leandra said. “Well, with or without them it is always a great deal of fun.”

“The real fun is in the Arena,” Gamlen said.

“Oh hush! Let’s not talk about such barbaric things,” Leandra chided.

“The arena?” Hawke asked.

“It’s a tournament of fighters that draws the most skilled men from all over the Free Marches. The grand prize is 100 sovereigns,” Gamlen said.

“A hundred sovereigns!” Hawke exclaimed. “We could buy our way in to the expedition,” she said, turning to Bethany.

“No Charlie, no! Oh, damn you Gamlen!” Leandra cursed. “Charlie, I forbid it. They’re always terribly bloody and several die every year. They die!”

“It’s worth looking into mother, if it could buy our way in to the expedition, and with the expedition we could buy back the family estate,” Hawke said.

“Charlie can win it mother,” Bethany said, trying to cheer their mother up, but it was not working.

“Do what you wish,” Leandra replied tersely. “You never listen to me anyway.”

“What is this Leandra?” Gamlen asked, looking through a basket of feathers, twine, needles, and variety of other materials.

“Stop it, will you? Just leave that be,” Leandra said, and swatted his hand away.

Bethany gathered some of the herbs to take to Anders clinic, and left with a skip in her step. Hawke left Leandra and Gamlen to the decorating, and went to see what Varric knew about the Arena.

“So Varric,” Hawke said. “Tell me about this warrior’s tournament, during the Feast of Satinalia.”

“You mean the Arena? You considering on entering it?” Varric asked.

“Maybe,” Hawke said.

“Hm, well, fighters from all over the Free Marches come to take part in it. It’s actually a very big deal. The Arena costs 7 sovereigns to enter, but the prize for first place is a lofty 100 sovereigns. The second place prize 40 sovereigns, and at third place you win 15 sovereigns. There are five different rounds, and as many fighters can participate as those that want to. There are no rules, anything goes - with the only exception being magic. No enchanted armor, weapons, and obviously no performing magic itself. Well, I guess there is one other rule. Bombs and traps aren’t allowed, but there is no rule against poisoned blades. Or arrows, but you rarely see any archers join. However, while poison is allowed it is still considered taboo, rude, so you don’t typically see much of it. Killing your opponent is not required, but it isn’t prohibited either,” Varric explained.

“The first round is survival. You actually don’t have to fight anyone at all, technically. Some hide or evade fights the whole time. There’s a story that about 35 years ago or so, one man just stood in the middle of the arena, arms crossed, never lifted a finger, and made it through the first round. You just have to be standing at the end of the round. The more people you take out in the first round, the fewer you have to fight later. And it can be your best chance to take out some of the more advanced fighters, if fighters can manage to team up to take them down, or if you’re able to take advantage of the chaos to take them by surprise. But it’s not uncommon for the most serious fighters to hire thrash - that is to say lesser fighters who are literally hired to take hits to prevent these two things from happening. The trash drop out after the first round, if they managed to survive that long.

The first round is therefore the most dangerous. You’re more likely to encounter rash, panicked, blood thirsty, and poorly trained fighters in the first round than in any other round. Add the chaos, and even accidental deaths become inevitable.

Second and third rounds are a bit gladiator style: three fighters enter, only one leaves. Fourth & fifth rounds are traditional one-on-one combat, where the winners are continually paired up until there is only one winner left.

The Arena brings a lot of money in to Kirkwall, since many travel to just to watch the fights. There’s also the betting - it’s the largest gambling event of the year and there’s always someone trying to pay or threaten fighters to throw fights. Big upsets always result in deaths outside the Arena. The fighting itself is spread out over the whole week of Feast of Satinalia, with a few ‘off days’ for recovery and training, which everyone else uses to stuff their faces and get blazing drunk. The Masquerade of Beasts is the grand party at the very end, where the winner is paraded around the dance floor in front of Kirkwall’s most elite.”

“What do you think my chances are?” Hawke asked.

“So you’re serious about this?” Varric asked.

“With 100 sovereigns we could buy our way in to the expedition. Even 40 sovereigns is almost enough,” Hawke said.

“It sure would,” Varric sighed. “Hawke, I’ve never met someone as talented and as capable as you. You could easily make it into the fourth round. Win the entire thing … honestly, I don’t know. Many of these fighters come from rich nobility, where their parents have paid the best tutors to train their sons, or daughters, their entire lives. Some of them make a living simply from traveling from one tournament to the next. There haven’t been too many big names in the past few years, but there are a couple who stopped fighting but never technically retired. Every year people are anxious to see if one of them will suddenly decide to re-enter the fight.

But there is one name I’ve been hearing recently. Liam Ignatius DuBois III. The DuBois’ are a noble Kirkwall family with three sons. But the eldest and most promising son apparently defied all of his family’s wishes and hopes for him to marry a well born daughter of an Orlesian noble family, and disappeared into some far-off mountains to hunt dragons and other terrible beasts. Dragon hunting isn’t well thought of by everyone. Even though it’s held in high esteem in Nevarra, others often considered it foolish, brutish, lowbrow. It’s still impressive, but it’s not something that mothers and fathers want their sons to do with their lives, and it’s not something parents want in a husband for their daughters. But apparently Liam returned a few years ago, after successfully killing several dragons I might add, and has won a few tournaments since his return. He has also lost a few, and there are loud arguments on both sides about whether or not cheating was involved. If he did enter, I think he would probably be your greatest challenge.”

“Then I need to come up with 7 sovereigns,” Hawke sighed.

“I tell you what,” Varric said. “I’ll pay the 7 sovereigns, and when you win, you can pay be back with interest.”

“Are you sure Varric?” Hawke asked.

“It’s an investment,” Varric said.

Hawke asked Fenris to spar with her to help her prepare for the Arena. Every evening for the next two weeks, they met and sparred in an empty warehouse that Varric had found for them to use. Sometimes the others joined to watch, sometimes they sparred alone well in to the night. Hawke told Fenris not to hold back, and so he didn’t. He pushed Hawke hard, and she pushed right back. Hawke gave him permission to use him abilities - stopping short of ripping her heart out. She wanted to push herself as hard as she could in preparation. Fenris argued against it, however, citing that such abilities weren’t allowed in the Arena.

The first day of the Feast of Satinalia, the Viscount led the grand parade through the streets of Kirkwall, through Hightown as well as Lowtown, all the way to the Arena. All the Arena participants walked in procession in the parade, bringing up the rear. The parade made Hawke more nervous that she had expected. She didn’t enjoy all the attention. The crowd lining the streets was massive. Everyone was shouting and yelling. Some threw flowers or confetti, a few women broke through the line to hand a handsome Arena participant a silk scarf, and squealed with delight as the guards directed them back to the rest of the crowd.

Varric had been right, Liam Ignatius DuBois III was participating. He walked at the front of the group, waving and smiling confidently to the crowds. At least four women had run up to give him scarves, nearly dropping their panties as they squealed and rushed away again. Hawke huffed at their frivolousness, but found herself just as taken by his appearance. He was handsome indeed, Hawke caught herself thinking. He turned and winked at her, as though he could hear her thoughts. She quickly turned her gaze away, feeling foolish for her idle fancies. He was more than a head taller than Hawke. His biceps were large, and his thighs were like tree trunks. His tunic was purposely open and unfastened to expose his chest hair, and the upper portion of what looked like a grisly scar. His head was shaved on either side and his midnight black hair hung down the back of his head, tied back in short pony tail. He had tattoos on the right side of his shaved head, that curved to the back and disappeared under the pony tail. His eyes were pale, glittering blue-silver. He had a beard like many of the others, but his was well manicured and cut short. It was also clean and groomed, also unlike many of the others. He walked with such confidence and strength. Hawke realized she was staring at the back of his head again, and stepped back in the procession so that two other men hid him from her view.

There were twenty-five women among the participants, out of the 173 total fighters. A few of them elves and a couple of dwarves. The parade ended in the Arena as the crowds poured in. The fights would not take place for a while though. For the time being, the participants wandered the open field in the center of Arena, getting used to the space and loose dirt. Fresh gravel had been added, as well some kind of liquid to keep dust clouds to a minimum. Servants roamed the field, offering the participants everything from fine wine, cheese, fruit platters, to laurels and flower garlands. Healers and trainers with the participants were also allowed to enter the field at this time, to discuss other participants and strategy.

“How you feeling?” Varric asked as he gladly took a glass of champagne from a passing servant.

“I’m feeling more nervous than I anticipated,” Hawke confessed. “I’ve been fighting as long as I can remember, but never for an audience,” she said, looking around at the high theater stands that surrounded the field.

“You have to put them out of your mind if you hope to come through this in first place. And particularly if you don’t wish to die,” Varric said. “There are going to be many distractions. People in the crowds often throw objects into the Arena. They aren’t supposed to, and are generally removed for doing so, but that’s obviously only after they’ve thrown something. So you have to be able to block them out, or their distraction will get you killed.”

“I know, I know,” Hawke said, trying to reassure herself. “We practiced that at the Warehouse.” Although, now that she thought about it, having Isabela throw her underwear at them, with Merrill yelling and squealing in the background wasn’t the same as thousands of people yelling and screaming, and throwing Maker knows what, into the Arena.

“Once the fighting starts, you’ll settle in,” Varric said, but Hawke wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Leandra was in the stands, sitting with Gamlen and the others. Aveline couldn’t sit with them, unfortunately. Guard duty was extremely complicated during the Feast of Satinalia. They had to hire temporary recruits, and did their best to train them in a short time, but they were not capable of full guard duties, thus her job was endless and straining during the whole of Feast of Satinalia.

At last the gong sounded and signaled that the first round would begin soon. Trainers and participants retreated to the dressing rooms where they geared up and retrieved their register weapons. The gong rang again, and all 70 participants flooded into the Arena. The crowd went wild, roaring and whistling. They were all on their feet, drumming the railing with their hands and light objects. The Viscount held out his hands to bring the roar to a quiet.

“Welcome everyone to this year’s Arena! I will remind the crowd that they are prohibited from tossing anything into the Arena-” A hysterical woman’s screams interrupted the Viscount, as she threw her paisley silk panties into the Arena. They fell unceremoniously, and a servant quickly rushed to pick them up, and retreated back into the shadows.

“Yes, even small clothes are prohibited,” The Viscount continued. Two guards approached the woman and forcibly removed her. “Participants, I remind you that no enchantments, bombs, traps, or magical items or abilities are allowed. Should any be used, the fight will stop and you will be disqualified. I would also request that we keep unnecessary deaths to a minimum. Deaths require a great deal more time to clean up, and therefore stall further fights that much more.”

He made a few more comments, thanked and welcomed a few specific nobles, none of which rang a bell to Hawke, and then rang the gong three times - signaling the beginning of round one. A number of the women allied with each other to fight small groups of men. However, Hawke was not eager to enter any fight. There was a great deal of chaos and there would be plenty of fights later. If she could help it, she would gladly survive this round without crossing blades with anyone.

Ten of the participants fell almost immediately. Slowly the more inferior fighters dwindled, and Hawke had been able to easily step aside to avoid confrontations with others. She stood in the center, on guard as she closely watched the other groups. Liam stood similarly ready in the center. Whether it was simply perceived, or whether the others were actually aware of who Hawke was, they began to recognize that both Liam and Hawke were at least top tier opponents. Hawke was surprised, but Liam had not hired trash mobs like Varric indicated that many others did. He stood alone as the small groups of 2 to 4 targeted each of them. Hawke chose to stay on the defensive, simply deflecting and disarming when she could. But they had to go down, to be eliminated. Hawke slammed her pommel into the temple of one man and he slumped to the floor. She ducked the swing from his companion and gracefully pivoted, using the momentum of her hips to thrust the pommel into his chest. She heard a crack and the man stumbled back, dropping his sword. He crawled away, as another two charged at Hawke. The front man was running at full speed, screaming. Hawke waited and then took a large step to the side at the last moment, allowing him to charge past her and into the group who was trying to fight Liam. She parried his partner’s blow, and swept his feet from under him. Without a word, nod, or gesture to the other, Liam and Hawke quickly found themselves fighting back to back, only defending themselves and using as little force as possible.

Across the field an elven woman was viscously downing her foes. She was not restraining her blows. She gladly spilled blood from any foolish enough to get too close. Even if the wound wasn’t fatal, the poison on her daggers likely was. At the very least it caused great agony. Her opponents fell one after the other, screaming horribly. One dwarven woman knocked her opponents to the ground with the great force of her stone maul. And three men who were dressed in blue, like Avaar savages, held their own not too far from the elven woman.

Unexpectedly, the fight struck Hawke with a great weight, like a mill stone around her throat. Though she fought thugs and raiders, even the occasional Tal-Vashoth almost daily, the Arena reminded her remarkably of the battle field of Ostagar. It was all she could do to keep the memories at bay.

The gong clanged three more times. The first round was over. Of the 173 who had entered, 96 remained.

“She is very talented,” the elf sitting next to Isabela said, in his sexy Antivan accent.

“Isn’t she?” Isabela smiled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Leandra said to the elven man.

“Where are my manners?” He said. He took her hand and kissed it seductively. Leandra laughed delightfully at his ridiculous, but flattering attention. He was about Hawke’s age, or somewhere there in, so obviously much younger than she was. “My name is Zevran. I am an acquaintance of Isabela’s.”

“Acquaintance, eh?” Anders said, raising his eyebrow and gently elbowing Bethany. Bethany giggled.

“Oh, Zevran and I know each _quite_ well,” Isabela said.

“One might even say that we know each other _thoroughly_ ,” Zevran added.

Leandra laughed at the playful banter. _Oh, to be young again_ , she thought.

“Looks like Varric’s information was right,” Gamlen said. “I put all my money on that Liam bloke.”

“What?!” Leandra cried. “You didn’t bet on Charlie?”

“Leandra,” Gamlen said, as though that’s all the explanation that was needed.

“He certainly appears to be Hawke’s greatest competition,” Fenris agreed. “His abilities and training are impressive.”

“And did you catch a glimpse of that scar on his chest?” Isabela swooned.

“Mmmm, indeed,” Zevran added.

“Supposedly from a black dragon he fought, somewhere in Fereldan,” Anders said, also eying him like a juicy piece of candy.

“His features are attractive,” Fenris agreed.

“I don’t know how Hawke can concentrate,” Isabela said.

“How can she restrain herself near him, eh?” Zevran asked. “Can you imagine, if she just suddenly tore his shirt off in the middle of the Arena?” He laughed. At least half of them were playing that exact scene out in their minds as the field was quickly cleared and cleaned up. Injured participants hobbled off the field, while others were carried off. Some scoured the field for lost weapons or other pieces of equipment. One unfortunate man searched for his ear that had been lopped off by the elf woman.

“The second round will be the last round for the day,” Gamlen said to no one in particular.

Acrobats and jesters entered the field and performed stunts while the rest of the field was cleared. This also gave the participants time to address wounds, adjust their armor, and rest before the next round.

“So, what did you think?” Varric asked as Hawke sat down on the bench next to him.

“It was interesting,” was all Hawke could muster. She took two large sips from the water skin, and several more deep breaths. There was no point in mentioning the flashes from the Battle of Ostagar, or pointing out the obvious chaotic nature of the first round.

“I saw you and Liam made an alliance. Just be careful with those,” Varric said.

“Actually …” Hawke said. “I … don’t really know what happened there.”

“You didn’t agree to work together?” Varric asked.

“No. It just, it just happened,” Hawke said.

“Hm. Interesting,” Varric said. “I wouldn’t count it from here on out.”

“I wasn’t ever counting on it at all. I kept expecting him to attack me next, but there were so many others that I guess he never got a chance,” Hawke said.

“Well, you’re certainly the envy of all women in Kirkwall right now,” Varric said.

“Why?” Hawke asked.

“Why? Hawke, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed his good looks? I don’t find men attractive and even I am drooling a little,” Varric said.

“But what does that have to do with me?” Hawke asked.

“You fought with him, literally back to back. And then he shook your hand at the end,” Varric said. Hawke blushed a little.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, trying to brush the issue aside.

An official came by as they watched the acrobatic performance and handed her an arm band. He helped secure it to her arm, and moved to the next participant. The band plain and black.

“It will change colors when the next gong rings,” Varric explained. “These bands are the only enchanted items allowed into the Arena. The color will determine what group of three you’ll be fighting in.”

Hawke downed a restoration potion, as Anders had previously instructed. And then as it was clear the acrobatic show was coming to a close, she downed a stamina potion as well. She took a few more sips from the water skin, and stood to her feet, shaking out her arms a little.

The acrobats and jesters cleared the field, and the crowd roared with anticipation. The gong clanged once. The participants returned to the field, and awaited further instruction.

“Each of you has been given an arm band. Because we have a larger number of participants than usual proceeding into the next round, only eight groups of three will fight today and the remaining 24 groups will fight tomorrow. There will be a day of rest, followed by round 3, and so on. Now then, if your band has turned white, you may leave the field; you are in the group that will fight tomorrow,” the Viscount explained.

Participants checked their bands, which had now changed colors. Slowly those with white bands trickled off the field. Hawke’s band was red.

“Those that remain, you are to fight those with the same color band - and _only_ those with the same color band. You will be disqualified if you engage any others with a different color band,” the Viscount said.

The participants sought their fellow colors, and stood in small triangle-like circles, spread throughout the field. Hawke sighed with relief that Liam was not in her group. The other two with red arm bands were both men, and were two of the crazed Avaar savages she had seen fighting earlier. Their third companion was in a different group, the yellow group. Liam’s band was black, and his two opponents didn’t look very confident.

The elf woman sneered at her two opponents, in the blue group. Looking around, Hawke was surprised to see a man in the green group, fixated on her. She looked around to be sure he was staring at her, and it certainly appeared to be that way. The blood lust in his eyes was intense.

 _Woops. Guess he_ _’s someone I pissed off at some time or other_ , Hawke thought, and simply turned and ignored his unsettling glare as though she had never seen him at all.

The gong rang three more times, and the fight began, though much slower than the first round. In most groups, no one was sure who to attack first, and obviously concerned about being attacked by the other two at the same time. Hawke was at a disadvantage - both of her opponents were allied with each other. They attacked in unison. One tried to hold her attention in the front, while other attempted to flank her. She was a skilled enough fighter that she was used to such tactics, though that didn’t make it much easier to defend against. They pressed her from both sides. They kept her on her toes, blow after blow she parried, unable to get an offensive strike in. Her only chance was to use their own blows against each other, but their footwork was nearly flawless, so that it was almost impossible to use their strikes against each other.

The elven woman took down one of her opponents, suffering a slash from the other. She clasped her hand over the wound as she circled in dance with her opponent. Liam was toying with his opponents, not wishing to end the fight too swiftly. No one enjoyed quick fights. The crowd suddenly roared, but the participants expertly tuned them out, focusing only on their opponents at hand. Unfortunately, this was one instance that it was in the best interest of the fighters to pay attention to the crowd. Liam noticed it first, but it didn’t matter.

The crazed man from the green group had viscously killed his two opponents, and was charging at the red group. He stabbed one of Hawke’s opponents in the thigh, discarded the dagger, and pressed forward toward Hawke, pulling out another dagger from his boot. Hawke’s other Avaar opponent stepped back, not sure what was going on, or what he should do. Guards were shouting, but they couldn’t be heard over the crowd and the clang of metal on the field. He moved in crazy flurry, blades a blur. Hawke parried and dodged, pressed back further into the field. He was in crazed, unnatural state, clearly the result of a potion meant to give him an advantage. But he had made a mistake that left him open to an exceptional skilled opponent. Hawke took advantage of the opening, stepping under his arms, and pivoting - a move which now placed her behind him, flanking him. She stabbed him in the back with the pommel of her great sword. He stumbled forward a step, but it should have been enough force to drop him to the ground in agony. He pivoted with great speed and unnatural reflexes. Hawke slashed with her great sword. He backed away, but not before the sword swiped across his chest, slashing through his leather armor, spilling blood down his front.

It was only apparent from one side of the field what was going on. Up in the Viscount’s box, it appeared that the fights were simply carrying on as normal, and without the Viscount’s gong to stop the fight, the guards couldn’t enter the Area.

A few other of the groups noticed the unusual fight, but it was not their concern, and they had their own fight to focus on. If it would take more fighters out of the running, what did they care?

Hawke’s sword connected again, slashing his left arm. Hawke was gaining and edge on the man as his potion was wearing off, and he was tiring out. He knew it too. He grinned and pulled something out from under his shirt. Varric stood up and shouted at the guards, but no one could hear him. The man lunged at Hawke a few more times, keeping his left hand concealed behind him until he had the opening he needed. Hawke say it nearly too late. The light glinted off of the glass bomb. One of the other opponents on the field had dropped his shield. Hawke dove for it as the man pulled the pin and threw the bomb. It was coated in a tarry substance, meant to make it stick in place so that it was impossible for it roll away or for it to be picked up and thrown back.

Hawke pulled the shield up, and the bomb pounded against it. It stuck to the upper edge of the shield and a moment later exploded with a terrible flash. The blast knocked many participants to the ground, and threw Hawke backward nearly twenty feet. Liam caught Hawke in his arms, and together they tumbled backward several feet to the ground. The broken pieces of the shield scattered across the field.

The crowd opened their eyes to survey the damage. There was a small crater where Hawke had been standing. Leandra and Bethany’s heart sank. Varric was trying to rush the field, but the guards were holding him back. The gong rang, but it sounded faint as everyone’s ears still buzzed from the explosion. Anders was standing up, heart pounding as his eyes searched the field for Hawke.

The wind had been knocked out of Hawke. She was struggling to breathe, and she was pretty sure her right arm was broken. It hurt terribly at any rate. Liam coughed as he regained his senses, holding her close. He was warm. His strong embrace felt nice, but now was not the time. Hawke broke free, and bent over on her knees, supporting herself with her left arm as she wheezed and coughed. Finally managed to regain her breath. The crowd watched as Liam stood and gently put his hands on her hips, and pulled her to her feet.

“Charlie!” Leandra screamed when she found her on the field.

“Hot damn,” Zevran said, watching Liam and Charlie.

Fenris clenched his fists and pounded the railing, enraged by the man who had cheated and nearly managed blow Hawke to pieces.

Anders was already rushing down the stairs to find Varric. He knew he couldn’t perform any magical healing in the Arena without exposing himself, but he wasn’t thinking straight. On the field, the other participants were getting to their feet, and sizing up the remaining opponents. Hawke’s opponents, in the Red group, were alive but badly injured. The elf woman died in the blast, meaning that all of the blue group was now dead - which was the same for the green group. The crazed man had been hit by a piece of shrapnel from the shield, and quickly bled out. Fitting, really.

The crowd was going wild. Who cared that bombs were illegal? This was the most exciting fight they could ever remember at the Arena. They were shouting for more, while the Viscount hopelessly tried to quiet them. Finally, the fighters were directed off the field. Medics quickly flooded in, carrying off both the corpses and the severely injured.

“Thank you,” Hawke finally managed to cough out.

“It’s not every day you find a beautiful warrior in your arms,” Liam said smoothly. “The pleasure, my dear lady, is all mine.” Hawke blushed, which was thankfully concealed by the dirt and blood scattered across her face and body. Liam grabbed her right arm to help her steady her feet, but she let out a painful howl and nearly collapsed to the ground.

“Let go of her,” Anders commanded angrily as he and Varric rushed forward.

“I think her arm is broken,” Liam said.

Anders put his arms around her and helped her stand up straight.

“Not here,” Varric quietly instructed to Anders. He agreed, and together, the three of them hobbled away. Liam watched them hurry off the field, before he retrieved his weapon, and then retrieved Hawke’s great sword.

The fight was declared over for the day, to be continued the following day. Anders and Varric found a secluded alcove just outside the Arena, where they sat Hawke down on a bench. Anders immediately began treating her arm with his healing magic. Bethany, Merrill, and Fenris could sense the magic, and led the group until they finally found them in the alcove.

“Charlie!” Leandra cried.

“I’m okay mother,” Hawke said roughly. She had small cuts on her face and legs from fragments of the bomb and shield. Her right eyebrow was split open. Her armor lay on the ground by the bench, and her tunic was partially lifted up, revealing a large, nasty bright red bruise on her stomach. Her arm looked just as bad, and her left ankle was sprained.

“Damn, you are one torn up mess,” Zevran said.

“Heh, you should see the other guy,” Hawke said, not sure who the strange blonde-haired elf was.

“Oh, he’s dead,” Merrill said. “Right? He is dead, isn’t he?”

“As a doornail,” Varric confirmed.

“Who was he?” Isabela asked.

“You tell me,” Hawke said. Her voice was still gruff.

“You didn’t recognize him at all?” Varric asked.

“Heh, I don’t think it’s possible to remember the faces of everyone I’ve managed to pissed off in this city,” Hawke joked. “I saw him before the fight started though. He was focused on me even then.”

“Hm,” Varric said. “I’ll see what I can find out about him.”

“Do you hurt?” Leandra asked.

“What do you think mother?” Hawke asked, wincing as Anders continued to work on healing her.

“We may need to move this little gathering,” Isabela said, keeping a look out. “It looks like this might take a while, and Anders certainly can’t stay here the whole time while using his magic. If we easily found you, so can others.”

They all agreed. Hawke’s armor was split up between Fenris, Merrill - who was insisted to help carry some of it, and Zevran. Anders carried Hawke, and the others followed.

Hawke felt warm against his chest. She propped herself up in his arms by wrapping her left arm around his neck. He could feel her warm breath on his neck. How he could be thinking about such things at a time like this? But he couldn’t keep the thoughts away. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind as much as he could, until they reached Hawke’s home. He didn’t want to put her down; her warmth quickly receded from his skin. But at least now he could focus on the task of healing her.

While Hawke had a number of injuries, they were all rather simple in terms of magical healing. There was no poison, shrapnel, or other complications. It took some time, but Hawke was completely restored by the end of the night. The large bruise on her stomach was still tender, and her arm still hurt, but she was tremendously improved. She gulped down a pain medicine, and Anders promised to apply some more healing to arm before the night was over.

The group headed to the Hanged Man for celebratory drinks where the Feast of Satinalia was already in full swing in the tavern. There was live music and dancing. Isabela was already dancing on tables, with Bethany no less. Isabela shouted and jumped down when Hawke and Anders walked in.

“Haaaaaawke,” she yelled, spilling her beer as ran to them. “Here,” she said, giving Hawke her mug.

Hawke grinned and downed the mug in one gulp. Hawke slammed the mug down on the counter and the let out a loud, drunk cheer.

“Hawke, have you ever had rum?” Isabela asked.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Hawke said. “They don’t serve it here, right?”

“No. It’s not regularly served here. But. I have a bottle of the best rum in Antiva, right here,” Isabela said, taking the bottle from Zevran. She handed it to Hawke. She took two sips of it.

“Mmmm,” Hawke said.

“Bleh, you enjoy rum?” Fenris scoffed.

Hawke was on top of the table dancing with Isabela and Bethany only minutes later. Absolutely no one complained, though Anders was concerned about her ankle and the possibility of her falling. The Hanged Man was howling with cheering and music and singing, but a great silence washed over the tavern when a group of visitors entered.

A large dashing man enter, followed by two others. It was Liam and presumably two of his friends. But the silence washed over the tavern because they were very well known nobles, which almost never ventured to Lowtown or the Hanged Man.

“Why are they here, of all places?” Anders hissed under his breath. “Aren’t they nobility?” Anders had already had enough of the man for one day, juicy eye candy or not.

The girls only noticed after the music had stopped for longer than usual. They turned to the door and saw Liam standing there, surveying the tavern.

Isabela giggled and poked Hawke in the back, which tickled and made Hawke burst out in laughter. Hawke tried to stifle the giggle, but it was louder than she realized. Liam’s gaze immediately found her. He grinned devilishly when he saw her standing on the table with three other women. Hawke & Isabela giggled more when Liam glanced their way.

“Hawke,” Isabela whispered, nudging her again. “Go talk to him.” But Hawke had no idea how to talk _or_ flirt with men, particularly not ones who were so incredibly attractive. It was worse if they showed any interest in her. Isabela gave Hawke a light push, and Hawke struggled to keep her balance on the table. She grabbed on to Isabela for balance, and giggled again.

Liam tossed a few silvers to the minstrel group, and told them to play something lively. He shouted that he was buying a round of whiskey for all, and sat down two tables over from the one Hawke was standing on. He kept looking over at their table. Hawke blushed, and had to turn around so that she didn’t have to see him. But she turned away only to discover a number of other gazes on her - including Fenris, Anders, Zevran, and a few others nearby. In fairness to all - there were four beautiful women, dancing on top of a table. Both the men and the women were quite sufficiently drunk. It would have taken Herculean strength to resist watching them. But Hawke was now notably flustered, and shy, unsure what to do. She was enjoying herself dancing with Isabela, but she wasn’t used to this type of attention. There was part of her who appreciated it. Who doesn’t want to feel attractive? But a great part of Hawke didn’t like it and wished that all the men would suddenly vanish from the Hanged Man. Isabela noticed Hawke noticing them.

“Here,” Isabela instructed, and once again shoved the bottle of rum into Hawke’s hands. The music began again, and the cheering and singing returned to its previous levels. Hawke took a swig from the bottle, and forced it down.

“Another,” Isabela instructed. Hawke obeyed. “There’s my girl.” She winked at Hawke and gave Hawke a nice slap on the ass. Hawke’s eyes shot open wide in surprise, and all four women burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Hawke focused only on dancing, but every time she looked over, she noticed Fenris’s eyes glued to her.

Soon Hawke was too drunk to notice anything, as they all were. Fenris and Anders were drunk and arguing over, no not mages, but where the name ‘Hanged Man’ came from. Varric was in the corner by the fire, recounting some of the tales of Hawke’s heroics, such as they were up to that point.

Liam and his friends were joined by three others, and they had been playing a rowdy game of Wicked Grace for some time. But he continued to glance over at Hawke, who was by then attempting to play darts with Isabela, Merrill, and Zevran.


	11. Reaver Blood

The gang passed out in the tavern, and woke in the early morning. An aspiring young alchemist was selling small bottles of hang-over cures. They weren’t true cures, but they did help an incredible amount, and everyone gladly paid his price, particularly any of those participating in the fight that day.

Hawke quickly washed and dressed, as Anders waited in the small kitchen with Leandra. Hawke came in, her hair still wet, and sat in front of him. He treated her arm again, and when Hawke confirmed that it felt good enough to fight with, he gingerly lifted up her tunic to heal what remained of the bruise on her stomach. When he was finished, Bethany and Leandra helped Hawke into her armor. Varric grabbed the pack of potions that Anders had prepared for her. Hawke was almost done getting ready, when she frantically started searching the house for her great sword.

“Did anyone grab my sword yesterday?” Hawke asked. Anders and Varric looked at each wide eyed, realizing they totally forgot it on the field.

Someone knocked softly on the door, and Bethany answered it.

“Oh!” Bethany exclaimed, suddenly finding herself speechless, but she opened the door. Liam stepped in, critically sizing up the small hovel as he entered.

“I thought you might be looking for your sword,” he said. “I had planned on letting you know last night, but I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed to be greatly enjoying yourself.” He smiled. His smile could make the small clothes of any woman just magically dissolve into thin air, Bethany was sure.

“Thank the Maker!” Hawke exclaimed. Liam handed her the sword, and she slung it over her back.

“Would you care to walk with me to the Arena?” Liam asked charmingly. Leandra was beside herself with the wonderfully beautiful man who was dotting on her daughter. She pushed Hawke forward.

“You two go on ahead. We’ll follow shortly,” she said, absolutely beaming.

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Hawke hesitated shyly. Bethany and Leandra squealed after the door was shut. Anders glowered.

“Huh, what do you know?” Gamlen said, surprised that a man such as Liam would show an interest in Hawke.

The day was longer than had been planned, thanks to the bomb that interrupted the fight the day before. Those of color groups that had more than one participant remaining from the previous day, finished up their fight first. One of the Avaar men had dropped out, which meant that Hawke only had to fight one of them. One on one, Hawke clearly had the upper hand. The rest of the day was spent on the remaining 24 groups of 3, split into three groups of 8. There was a rest day before round 3, and another before round 4. The remainder of round two and as well as round three were a bit disappointing, compared to the excitement of day one, which severely disappointed he audience. There was a day of rest after the completion of round 3, which was generally filled with rest and revelry. Twelve fighters were left for round 4, which was the first set of one-on-one combat. Round 4 was followed by another day of rest, before round 5, the championship round. Six fighters remained. Hawke made it to the final round, along with Liam, a dwarven woman named Brenna, and three other men: Xavier, a young underdog and promising fighter, and Jethro, a grizzled and experienced middle-aged man, and Otto who was heavily tattooed dwarf.

The first fight was between Brenna and Jethro. Both had very different fighting styles which made for a very exciting and impressive fight, but ultimately Brenna was the victor. Jethro was eliminated, taking 6th place over all.

The next fight was between Brenna and Liam. It was an impressive battle as well, but Liam clearly had the advantage the entire fight and claimed victory fairly easy. Brenna was eliminated, taking 5th place over all.

The third fight was between Liam and Hawke, the fight for fourth place. Liam grinned charmingly when Hawke entered the Arena. He bowed graciously to her, which he had not done with any other fighter. Hawke returned the bow, and the crowd went wild. Romantic rumors were already eagerly flowing throughout Kirkwall by now.

The two fighters circled each other carefully for a good time. For each step one took, the other made the perfect counter step. Knowing that the one who strikes first often gains the advantage, Hawke eventually made the first move. She struck quick with a feint. When he moved, as she predicted, she pivoted and swung in a wide arc. Liam blocked, but the blow forced him backward. The crowd roared. Liam pressed forward hard and fast, forcing Hawke to take several steps backward. But she had been calculating the steps backward, and with perfect timing pivoted and ducked his blow. She brought her sword up and then down swiftly slamming his blade to the ground, and kicked him in the back, forcing him forward. The move was an attempt to disarm and would have succeeded on a lesser opponent. But Liam matched her footwork, and just as deftly pivoted, freeing his sword from Hawke’s and moving into a position to take advantage of her opening.

The fight lasted a considerable time, each matching blow for blow. Both managed some incredible blows, knocking one another to the ground, and both made a number of impressive saves and blocks. Hawke had been nervous at the beginning of the fight, but the longer it continued the more she fed off the crowd and grew in confidence. She was slowly gaining an advantage, and the crowd was eating it up. Varric was sitting on his bench jerking his fists in the air with every strike Hawke took, like he was the one fighting Liam. Hawke was successfully backing Liam into a corner, figuratively speaking as it was a round field. Hawke stroke a blow that should have been a victory winning blow. The gash on Liam’s shoulder spurted with blood. But insisted of quitting or faltering, he grinned and slowly looked up. His eyes wildly glowed red and he seemed completely unphased by the gash in his shoulder.

His strength and speed had increased. He pressed forward hard, quick. In a flash it was Hawke who was beaten into a corner. He made a move that was nearly impossible to feign, but he pulled it off successfully. Unfortunately, it left Hawke’s arm up in the air, in a very vulnerable position. Liam changed direction with the drop of a pin and brought his great sword down on her with she incredible force, and placing his hand in the center of her chest, pushed her backward with tremendous force. It was impossible, she thought. She flew backward five feet, and hit the back wall, her arm still behind her. The force of hitting the wall, her arm still behind her, dislocated her shoulder. She dropped her great sword, and knew she could no longer wield it. Liam brought the tip of his sword to her throat, and waited.

“I yield,” she panted. The crowd roared again. Liam lowered his sword, and the glow in his eyes vanished.

“He cheated!” Fenris growled from the sidelines.

“No, Reaver abilities are allowed,” Varric said.

“But he just used magic! Blood magic!” Fenris said angrily.

“It is similar, and there are many who agree with you that Reaver abilities should be banned. _But_ it’s not technically magic. In fact, it’s actually a lot closer to the abilities of a Grey Warden. Both do involve blood, but still neither a Grey Warden or a Reaver can wield magic unless they’re a mage. Both drink ritually prepared blood, which gives both some unique fighting abilities. The difference is that Reaver abilities _do_ use their blood and the blood of their enemies to give them strength. But there is no use of magic, and there is no calling on demons or spirits,” Varric explained. “But it has been a controversial topic for decades.”

The crowd was still going wild over the incredible battle. Team Hawke was silent, and left the stands to meet Hawke in the infirmary.

“I had hoped to not use my Reaver abilities,” Liam panted. “I wanted to win with swordsmanship alone. And I truly didn’t expect that anyone would be able to force me into using them.” He forced his sword into the ground, leaving it standing up right. He stepped forward and offered a hand to Hawke, she took it, her right hanging uselessly at her side. When Hawke was steady enough to walk on her own, he let go and retrieved her sword and then his, and graciously escorted her off the field, where Varric, Fenris, and Anders met her.

“Oww!” Hawke explained as the Arena healer reset her dislocated shoulder. He put her arm in a sling, and gave her some instructions.

The Viscount tried to calm the crowd, but they were giving Liam a standing ovation, which he was lapping up. He circled the Arena waving to crowd, motioning for more cheering. He winked ad blew kisses to many of the woman.

“How you feeling?” Varric asked.

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it,” Hawke said.

“You had him on the ropes you know,” Varric said.

“He told me that he had hoped to make it through the Arena without ever having to use his abilities,” Hawke said, angry at Liam, but disgusted with herself. Disgusted that she lost, and disgusted that she had ever been so arrogant as to think that she could actually win first place.

The next fight was disappointing. Liam easily defeated Otto. He tried to draw the fight as long as he could, but Otto didn’t have enough skill to draw it out for very long. Liam progressed, winning the final fight against Xavier, who was indeed an impressive young fighter.

 _I could beat both of them_ , Hawke thought. Unfortunately, the Arena didn’t give you a chance to fight everyone. The matches were put together at random, and the outcome was final. The only way to win first was to progress through each fight. She could have at the very least won second place, if she had been given a match with either of these two idiots, instead of Liam. Instead she won Fourth place, which meant no prize money. She couldn’t repay Varric, let alone repay him with interest.

“At least this means I don’t have to go to the ball tonight,” Hawke said as they watched the last fight.

“You’re still in the top five, Hawke,” Varric said. “You’re still expected to go.”

“Nope,” Hawke said firmly.

“Alright. Well, then pray tell, what would you like to do tonight to celebrate winning fourth place?” Varric asked.

“Ugh. We are not celebrating that. Let’s just celebrate the last night of Satinalia like everyone else,” she said.

“So a party on the beach it is!” Isabela said. “Great! I have just the thing.”

“Hope everyone purchased their masks already,” Varric said.

“What? I thought those were just for the ball?” Hawke said.

“No, the little people wear them too,” Varric said. “Your mother made yours, correct?”

“Yep. We’re all hawks,” she said.

Gamlen, Leandra, Hawke and the whole crew, even Aveline, met on the beaches of the Wounded Coast that night, along with over half of Kirkwall. Bonfires were already setup and blazing all over the beach by the time they arrived. They watched the sun set, eating large portions of roasted boar, garlic roasted spuds, elderberry pie, and washed it all down numerous upon numerous mugs of ale.

At some point a minstrel joined them at their bonfire, as well as several others than Isabela seemed to know, and there was music and much dancing. Leandra called it a night early, and retreated to a quieter area to go to sleep. Gamlen wandered off somewhere, presumably to join his friends, that is if he has any? But the merriment around the bonfire continued well into the early morning. And then the masks were discarded into a pile: three Hawkes, one wolf, one crow, one halla, one tiger, one fox, and one minx.

“Hawke, try this this,” Isabela said, shoving a blue glass bottle into Hawke’s hand. Hawke took a cautious sip. Her eyes widened with surprise and delight.

“Mmm, that’s good stuff,” Hawke said.

“Isn’t it?” Isabela agreed. “I know you didn’t win like you wanted to, but you still fought well.”

“Thanks … Isabela,” Hawke said surprised.

“Now drink up,” Isabela winked.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Hawke winked back.

All across the beaches of the Wounded Coast, people sang, hooped, and howled long into the night. Varric and Isabela shared a dozen tales each that night. There was much laughter, considerably more singing and dancing, and copious amounts of drinking. People began passing out just a few hours before the sun rose, and the merriment died down considerably.

“Fenris,” Hawke called, as she drunkenly descended the sandy slope to the bonfire that Fenris was standing by, drinking alone.

“Mm, Hawke,” he replied. Hawke slipped and lost her balance, and struggled to keep herself from falling with her right arm bound in the sling.

“Woops,” she giggled. She grabbed onto his sleeve to steady herself.

“You’re drunk,” he stated.

“Mm, yourr drunker-er,” Hawke said.

“What’s thhhat?” Fenris asked, slurring his words a little and indicating the bottle in her hand.

“Hmm, luccccidass er, something,” Hawke said, unable to recall it’s name. “Isabela handed it to me. Want to try some?”

“Sure,” he said. Hawke handed him the bottle and shifted her feet in the sand, and once again needing to grab onto Fenris’s arm to steady herself.

“That is … pleasant, acttually,” Fenris said. He took another large sip of the bottle and handed it back to Hawke.

Hawke accidentally dropped the bottle into the sand, and watched the last sip pour out.

“A shame,” Fenris said.

“Fenrisss,” Hawke said. “I liike your markings.” Hawke hiccuped.

“You do?” He asked surprised.

“Mhmm,” Hawke said. “We should kiss.”

“You want to kiss …,” Fenris started to repeat, but Hawke had stepped forward and lifted herself up on her toes. Her lips nearly touched his, but her footing was unsteady. Fenris didn’t react at all at first. He stood there frozen like a board. She pulled back to steady herself and he dropped his bottle of wine into the sand and gently leaned forward, his lips softly touching hers. They kissed so softly, hands at their sides (or hung in a sling, as the case was for Hawke), only their lips touching. They swayed at the shifting sands under their feet, stumbled apart, and stepped close again. But the uneven, shifting ground proved too much for Hawke to handle: she was too drunk and her balance was unsteady with her arm in a sling. The world started spinning. Hawke pulled away and rushed to the large seating log a few steps away. She leaned over and puked into the sand.

~

Morning rose with a cold breeze, stirring Fenris awake. He found himself lying on the ground, sand in his mouth, and his head pounding. Hawke lay in the sand only a foot away from him, her hair spilling out of its braid and spread out across his arm. She was curled up tightly, trying to keep warm in the cold morning air. Fenris watched her for a moment, her whole body moving ever so softly with each sleeping breath. She was so peaceful, so docile. It was hard to imagine that this was the same woman who nearly took second place in the Arena. Fenris stretched and got up to find a good place to relieve himself.

“Fenris,” Isabela said, as she approached from a different bonfire. “Where are you-”

“Morning wood,” he replied groggily and gruffly.

“I could-”

“No,” Fenris cut her off without stopping. Isabela sighed. He was always so serious, even she was joking. She walked over to Hawke’s bonfire, which was still glowing with embers. Anders joined a minute a later, and then Aveline. Hawke was still fast asleep, curled up in the sand, and Merrill lay sleeping only a few feet away.

“Maker’s breath,” Aveline said. “What was in that drink you gave us last night?”

“It was aquea lucidius,” Isabela grinned. “A very strong drink, _and_ a potent aphrodisiac.”

“No kidding,” Aveline said. “I saw Hawke making out with Varric _and_ Fenris,” Aveline said, her head also pounding, and sat down on the log next to Anders.

“ _And_ me,” Isabela smiled.

“And me,” Aveline admitted.

“What?” Anders asked disappointed. “How come I didn’t get to make out with Hawke?”

“Probably because you were busy making out with the dear Bethany,” Zevran said.

“What?! No, I didn’t ….…. fuuuck,” Anders said, burying his face in his hands.

“Does anyone else’s head feel like someone is using it as a drum?” Bethany asked, approaching the group from a third bonfire.

“Aye,” Varric said, following behind her.

“I have to say though,” Isabela said. “I’m a bit surprised. Very happy, but surprised.”

“What’s that Rivaini?” Varric asked sitting down next to Aveline.

“Hawke is a _great_ kisser,” Isabela smiled.

“Shit, don’t remind me,” Varric said and Zevran laughed.

“Wait, Charlie made out with you too Varric?!” Bethany asked.

“She did. She really did,” he said, eyes wide.

“Why does my head hurt?” Merrill asked, sitting up slowly, sand and twigs tangled in her hair.

“Oh my poor kitten,” Isabela said. She patted a spot on the log next to her, and Merrill sat down beside her.

“Bethany, can you do something about the fire?” Aveline asked.

“Sure,” she said. Seconds later it burst into a roaring fire, sustained purely by magic.

“That’s much better,” Isabela said, holding her hands out toward the flames.

“Who wants breakfast?” Leandra asked, suddenly approaching from behind, and clearly not suffering a hangover like they were. They had completely forgotten that she had joined them the night before.

“Aye!” Everyone replied.

“Bless the Maker for that woman,” Anders said.

Hawke stirred when she heard everyone replying about breakfast. She sat up, and immediately regretted it.

“Anders, is this what the blight feels like?” She groaned. They all laughed.

“ _Good morning_ ,” Isabela said in a sexy, sweet tone.

“Seems like you had a good time last night,” Aveline teased.

“Oh Maker,” Hawke said. “Do I want to know what I did last night?” She asked.

They continued to talk and bemoan their hangovers for many more minutes until Leandra called out saying that breakfast was ready. Fenris returned carrying a large pile of wood for the bonfire, just as Leandra was finishing handing out breakfast. His return had Isabela rethinking their earlier conversation. He saw the question in her face and grinned wickedly.

Breakfast was small, but it was delicious and really hit the spot. Bethany and Anders unpacked the ‘hangover cures’ they had made the day before, and handed them out to everyone.

“You know,” Varric said to Anders as they walked back, the women leading the way a few paces ahead. “I don’t know why you don’t like Bethany. She’s beautiful, young, a mage. You seem to get along great together, and she certainly has feelings for you.”

“I know. I know,” Anders said. “I’ve asked myself that as well. What’s wrong with me that I’m not interested? But I, I simply don’t feel that way about her. What future could I have with anyone, anyhow? I’m tainted, literally. One day the blight will call me. As if that wasn’t enough, I’m also possessed. I have nothing to offer anyone but pain.”

“What are you going to say Bethany?” Varric asked.

“What do you mean?” Anders asked.

“Come on Anders. The two of you kissed last night,” Varric replied.

“Ugh, _please_ stop reminding me,” he sighed. “I’m honestly hoping she doesn’t remember and we can just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Meanwhile, at the front of the group, the women were also discussing the events of the night before.

“So, Hawke,” Aveline said. “Do you actually not remember what happened last night?”

“Heh. I think I kissed someone,” Hawke smiled innocently.

“Oh, you kissed someone alright,” Aveline said.

“You truly don’t remember kissing Varric? Or Aveline?” Bethany asked.

“What?!” Hawke exclaimed, shocked and a bit mortified.

“Don’t forget, you also kissed _me,_ ” Isabela said.

“And me as well,” Zevran added.

“And Fenris,” Aveline added.

“Fuuuck,” Hawke said. Her stomach felt twisted and hollow. “Shit.” She sighed heavily. “I remember kissing Fenris now. … annnd I’m pretty sure I told him that I like his markings.”

“Haha,” Isabela laughed.

“What’s wrong with that?” Aveline asked.

“It’s incredibly personal topic. I shouldn’t have brought it up at all. But to say that I _like_ them?! He never wanted those markings. They were forced on him. Burned into him and they still hurt, and I told him that I like them! Fuuuuuck. … And I kissed Varric? I’m never drinking again,” Hawke said.

“Isn’t liking them better than if you didn’t like them?” Zevran asked.

“I don’t know,” Hawke sighed. “Maker’s balls, he’s going to be extra broody after this.”

“So just apologize,” Aveline said.

“I will. I’ll apologize as soon as we get back to the city, and then hopefully everyone can just pretend none of this happened?” Hawke asked, smiling sheepishly.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Isabela said. “You kissed him. So what? You kissed everyone last night. _And_ you were good at it too. Fenris should be happy.”

“He has … personal space issues. And kissing is definitely an invasion of that personal space,” Hawke said.

“He needs to get laid, that’s what he needs,” Isabela said. “That would lighten him up.”

“Not everything is solved with sex,” Aveline said firmly.

“Have you ever tried?” Isabela asked. Aveline just glared at her. “That’s what I thought.” Zevran gave Isabela a high five and Aveline rolled her eyes.

The road from the Wounded Coast brought them to Hightown. Aveline waved good bye and headed back to the Barracks. Isabela & Merrill headed back to Lowtown with Bethany and Leandra. Varric and Anders followed behind.

“Fenris,” Hawke said following him toward his house.

“Yes Hawke?” Fenris asked. He stopped and turned around.

“Ah, listen. Um, … last night … Maker I was really drunk,” Hawke chuckled. “But that’s no excuse,” she quickly added. “I know how you feel about personal space, so I ah … wanted to apologize about last night.”

Fenris laughed. “Think nothing of it. We were both quite excessively inebriated, as I recall. And it turns out that it was a rather pleasant experience.”

Hawke was taken back. That was certainly not the reaction she was expecting.

“And I apologize for my comments about your markings,” she added, fidgeting with her braid.

“Why? Do you not like them then?” Fenris asked, feeling confused and a little let down.

“No!” She said quickly. “I … I mean, it’s just, it’s a topic that I shouldn’t have brought up at all. And they were forced on you, they still cause you pain, and I just … I didn’t mean that I’m ok with what he did to you, or …”

“Hawke,” Fenris said. “They are what they are and I have only survived because of them. I would rather that you liked them than discover that you despised them. Though it was a surprise to hear that you like them.”

“Heh, well … good,” Hawke said, relieved. “Maker knows I haven’t been drunk like that in years!” Hawke laughed.

“It was quite amusing, actually,” Fenris smiled. “I hear you even kissed Varric and Aveline as well?”

“I know, I know. Oh Maker,” Hawke laughed.

“Say no more. There is nothing to apologize for. But if it will put your mind at ease, then it is forgotten,” Fenris said.

Hawke thanked Fenris, and left feeling very relieved, and also a bit confused. Her hangover was still raging so she voted to stop thinking about everyone she kissed. She pushed it out of her mind and promptly returned home where she slept the rest of the day.


	12. The Black Emporium

They later heard how Liam captivated all who attended the ball, dancing marvelously with several young ladies, but everyone couldn’t help but notice how his eyes anxiously searched the ballroom crowd looking for one particular lady who never did show. With the Arena & the Feast of Satinalia officially over, Liam returned to his adventuring in far off mountains. However, the events of Feast of Satinalia would live on in memory for many many years.

It was undeniable that the best fight of the Arena had been the two involving Hawke. The fan favorite was the one where the bomb went off, but when speaking of which fight was by the far the best matched and most impressive, the fight between Hawke & Liam won out. Despite the fact that Hawke took fourth place, everyone recognized that she could have and probably should have taken 2nd place.

It had been a few days since the Feast of Satinalia ended, and life had returned its regular, often dull and mundane pace within the city. Hawke had received a number of different letters in the wake of the Arena. Most were gibberish, or even down right creepy letters from adoring fans. But one stood out from the rest. It was signed by a name she recognized, though a person she knew very little about: Xenon the Antiquarian.

“Varric,” Hawke said.

“Mmm hmm,” he replied, heavily involved in his latest manuscript.

“Have you ever heard of the Black Emporium?” Hawke asked. Varric stopped, removed his glasses, and looked up.

“The Black Emporium?” He repeated.

“I received this letter this morning. But no one can recall anyone delivering it, and Gamlen has never heard of such a thing,” Hawke said, handing the letter to Varric.

_Greetings,_

_Y_ _ou do not know who I am, but I have heard of you. I understand you might need items from my collection, as well as the means to obtain them. I do not extend this invitation to anyone - but you are not simply anyone, are you?_

_Consider this an invitation to the Black Emporium. Instructions through the passages underneath the city are included with this letter, as is the charm to enter. If you give the charm to another, its permission will immediately be revoked_ _… and the consequences unpleasant._

_Xenon_

“I _have_ heard of it,” he said. “But honestly, I thought it was just a local legend.”

“What have you heard about it though?” Hawke asked.

“Hm? Oh,” Varric handed the letter back. “Honestly, not much. A bunch of wild stories that are obviously exaggerated. I mean, supposedly Xenon collects and sells some pretty crazy weapons, trinkets, paintings, you name it.”

“Interested in tagging along?” Hawke asked.

“Do you need to ask?” Varric said.

“Ask what?” Fenris asked, as he sat down next to Hawke.

“A trip to the mysterious shop of curiosities,” Varric said.

“What are you on about, dwarf?” Fenris asked.

“I received a letter from the Black Emporium,” Hawke said.

“Sounds like a shop full of dark magic,” Fenris said.

“Nothing I’ve heard of Xenon suggests he’s a mage,” Varric said. “Now does he collect and sell dark magical artifacts? Probably. But only a select few ever get the opportunity to see it. Come on elf, think of it as an adventure.”

“I will go, only because I am concerned it could be dangerous, or even a trap and your arm still hasn’t healed Hawke,” Fenris said.

Hawke’s right arm had received too much successive damage in too short a period of time. Anders managed to heal it nearly back to perfect condition after the bomb, but the body stops responding to magical healing if you use too much of it, and particularly if you use it too often. He did what he could for her arm, but it was going to take some time to fully recover after the fight with Liam.

“I’m concerned it could be a trap as well, which is why I’m not taking Bethany or Anders. Or Merrill. She already has enough dangerous magical artifacts to worry about,” Hawke said. “And Isabela, well Xenon doesn’t sound like the type to suffer to thieves.”

“When were you planning on going?” Fenris asked. He secretly slipped a piece bread under the table and fed it to Lady. She gladly took it, and licked his glove in thanks.

“Why not right now?” Varric asked. “I could use a break. This latest chapter has been a battle.”

The map included with the letter led them through some obscure Darktown tunnels that they had never seen before. Fenris was fairly certain that they were only visible because of the charm. It was a maze, and they got turned around multiple times in the tight, stuffy tunnels before they finally came to a widened portion of tunnel. Large, wooden barn doors hung over the opening at the dead end of the tunnel. Two stone pillars, possibly once statues, stood guard on either side of the doors. A circular symbol was burned into the center of the doors, half on one door, half on the other. The door creaked when Hawke pulled it open and the sound echoed down the hallway on the other side. The pathway that led further in was a wooden bridge which stood over a stone chasm. It was strange. When was this place built? Why was it buried so far in Darktown? The stone walls on each side and the statues that clung to them suggested that this had once been a temple, perhaps. Or maybe a shrine?

“Is anyone else getting a bad feeling about this place?” Varric asked. “I’m only asking because the hairs on the back of my neck just stood straight up.”

“There is definitely magic at work here. Old magic,” Fenris said.

The creaky bridge was lit on either side with soft glowing lanterns. The style was … elven perhaps? They certain didn’t seem Orlesian nor were they of any typical Kirkwall design. Given how old the place is, they’re probably ancient Tevinter lanterns. The bridge opened up into a large round space, brightly lit from sunlight pouring in from between ancient stone pillars. It was evident that this had once been a place of importance, that had long since been forgotten. The center portion of the ceiling was in disarray. That is to say that it had all nearly crumbled away. A few planks straddled the gap as though someone had once attempted to repair it, but gave up the effort.

They heard deep, echoing grunts and moans as they drew closer.

 _Mmh. Mmmmmrhh._ _… Gaarhhh .. heh,_ Xenon gasped.

 _A cuuuustomerr. Thadeas, stand straighhht. Placesss everyone. Mmrumph. Mrm._ _… Welcome … To the Blac-k Emporium. IIII am the Great and Magnificent Xenon, the Antiquarian._ He voice was deep, raspy, and labored as though it strained him to breath.

Hawke, Fenris, and Varric looked around trying to locate where the voice was coming from.

On a wooden platform in the center of the room, sitting in the glittering sunlight on an old wooden throne sat Xenon the Antiquarian, as he had introduced himself. Various mushrooms and vines had taken up residence on the platform, while books and bottles littered the front step, and a small watering bucket sat to his right side. But it was hard to get a good look at the man himself. The sunlight was blinding and obstructing, and whatever sat in the chair was the same color as the wooden throne and pillars. Was he a man at all? Was he made of ancient, gnarled wood? A moth eaten and very time worn cloth delicately draped over his lap, and upon counting Varric was pretty sure this man, or creature as it may be, had six hands at the very least. They were hands, right? Or maybe they were gnarled roots? Varric shuddered when he saw the knuckle bones, and old jagged finger nails, confirming they were at least at one time, in fact hands.

_It_ _’ss sooo rrrrare to have company, heh heh hhh. Well, hhhnn, living company at any rate. Look around. So many things to admire!_

They cautiously stepped into the round atrium. Lady stepped forward and sniffed some of the plants at the base of the platform.

 _A mabari hound! Come closer girl, mmm heh heh. I think she smiled at me, haha, heh heh hhhhh._ Xenon wheezed. Lady politely stepped back from the platform.

Fenris stood in front of a stone golem, admiring it. Fenris jerked back, startled, when the golem shifted it’s weight from one foot to the foot.

_Thhhat golem_ _’s name is Thaddeus Gigantus Crumbum the Third. Heh hhm. He … he is myyyy favorite._

A number of strange and … unsettling things lined the outer edge of the wood floor, beneath which continued the same stone chasm. There were paintings, and jars, baskets, crates, vials, vases, barrels, kegs. Candles stood glued atop of many of the railing posts, and lanterns were strung along throughout the shop, sometimes laying on the ground or tied to a banister. One box was labeled _‘Warning: Crate of Live Death Watch Beetles._ ’ Against the back wall stood a table of menacing crafting materials. Fenris scrunched his nose in clear disgust and disapproval at most of the jars. There was a basket of Lost Socks, a variety of relics and antiques, a pile of what appeared to be caste away items despite the fact that appeared to be in decent if not great shape, and certainly valuable or useful in some regard.

Sitting inside a glassless display case that stood on uneven legs, was a jar of picked Arlathan apples and next to it a scrawled note:

_I expressed my incredulity to the shop_ _’s assistant, who coldly noted that he did not like my implication. He insisted that every article in the Black Emporium was genuine - no fakes, imitations, or cheap knock-offs. I must have appeared unconvinced, for the assistant narrowed his eyes at me and disappeared into the bowels of the ship, returning several minutes later. He removed the jar of picked apples from the display case, and proceeded to carefully, reverentially, remove the wax seal from the lid of the jar. I watched with fascination as the jar was opened, and a single, rosy apple pulled from it. It looked as if it had been picked just that day, at the peak of ripeness. With a paring knife, the assistant cut the tiniest sliver of flesh from the apple and presented it to me. The flavor of that one small sliver was astonishing. It was as close to a perfect apple as ever there was. I was experiencing the essence of every apple ever eaten, and that ever will be eaten. When it was over, the sense of loss that filled me was sharp enough to move me to tears. The rest of the apple was returned to the jar, which was then resealed. I paid five sovereigns for that single taste, and I believe I got the better part of the bargain._

The letter was signed by Brother Genitivi, a name well known for the discovery of the Urn of Sacred Ashes in Fereldan. There was also a vase labeled “Vessel of Tears” (not creepy at all), a velvet painting of King Cailan, a nude sculpture of Andraste (which Xenon harshly requested that the group not fondle, despite the fact that none had made an attempt to touch it in any way), but perhaps most disturbing was the Box of Screaming. True to its label, terrible, screaming and wailing could be heard, as though in the distance, every time you passed by. It made one’s skin crawl horrendously.

Hawke found a strange, black mirror that stood propped up against the left wall of the room. She didn’t see how it could be useful at all, as there was no reflection. Strange wooden vines hugged the mirror, and red crystals jutted out at its feet.

 _Do NOT stare too intently_ _… at that. Mhm hm. … On second thought, please do! Mha mha hahaha heh hrmm huh,_ Xenon coughed.

Hawke was intrigued by Xenon’s comments, and took a small step closer to the mirror. She searched the black reflection closely, trying to find herself within it, until it pulsed and the black onyx stone swirled like liquid. Her head felt strange. There was a mild pressing, crushing sensation at the back of her skull, and her feet felt light as a feather. She began to feel weightless, like she was floating, and beginning to spin. It was a nauseating feeling. She instinctively took a step back, and as she did so an image appeared in the mirror. It was her face, but it wasn’t. Or rather it was what she was, and what she could be, and what she might have been. It was all very strange and confusing, and entirely over in a flash. As soon as her foot finished coming to a stop, it was all gone. Her body felt normal. There was no more image or swirling or spinning or pressure in her head. It was once again a lifeless, reflectionless black mirror. Her curiosity almost got the better of her. She almost stepped closer again, but ultimately she concluded that it was probably best to leave the mirror alone.

She turned then, to the relics and antiques piled in the chests and display cases, just next to the mirror. While Hawke was rummaging through those, Fenris and Varric picked over the discarded items, which Xenon strongly insisted were free of charge. Hawke indeed found many interesting items, particularly some enchanted rings and a fine sword. The prices were a bit steep though. _But_ _…_ , she wondered, _it could be money well spent if they reduced the damage the damage I receive or if they increase the damage I deal to others. Or even if they augmented my stamina some_. She was still mulling over the items trying to make a decision, when Xenon spoke again - apparently to them, though, he didn’t engage any one of them in particular.

_The templaaarss sometimes come here, you know. The blood stains take_ _… just WEEKS to clean up. Poooor Thaddeus._

“Hawke, are you done yet?” Varric whispered after he had finished selecting from the free pile. “I’m not eager to spend any more time here than we have to.”

Hawke sighed heavily. She still couldn’t make up her mind. “I don’t think I can afford anything,” she replied sadly. “I’ll come back another time.”

 _Mmmm, yes, yes!_ Xenon exclaimed. _Do return my dear. I do just loooove company heh hhh hrmph heh,_ he coughed.

“Ya well, don’t bring me along next time,” Varric whispered. He hoped Xenon couldn’t hear him, but he was pretty sure he could, and he wasn’t entirely sure that the man, or thing, couldn’t read his thoughts too.

They went their separate ways after departing from the Black Emporium. Hawke needed to put away the few things she had taken from the “free pile,” and they didn’t have any other jobs in the pipeline at present, which was fine given the condition of her arm.

“Hawke,” Anders said as she entered. He stood in the middle of their, well it might be a stretch to call it a living room or a foyer, but he stood in the room just inside the front door.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Leandra said, smiling cheerfully. She gave Hawke a soft wink as she retreated into the kitchen.

“I came by to check on your arm,” Anders said. “How is it feeling?”

“A little sore, but it’s bearable,” Hawke said.

“I think it’s been long enough that I should be able to heal it completely now,” Anders said. He gingerly lifted Hawke’s arm out of the sling, and straightened it. Hawke winced slightly.

“That hurt?” He asked.

“Only when you straightened it,” she replied.

“Here, sit down,” he said. He instructed her to hold her arm out in front of her, and he sat down next to her. He hovered his hands just above her arm, and they began to glow with faint green, magical healing light. He focused most of his attention on her shoulder, the main source of her injury. Minutes later he let out a deep breath and lowered his hands.

“Try moving your arm now. _Carefully_ ,” he said.

“It … feels … fine,” Hawke said as she tested it, moving it all around.

“Good! Your arm is still weak. There’s deeper healing that still is not done, but this should allow you to at least get back to work and defend yourself. But you should try to take it easy for a few weeks,” he said.

“I don’t think Charlie knows how to take it easy. I don’t think she knows what that means,” Bethany said, emerging from the back room.

“You’re probably right,” Anders said. “But please do take caution with your arm. There are injuries that are beyond even magical healing, and if you’re not carefully, you could find yourself in such a situation.”

“Thanks _mom_ , and _dad_ ,” Hawke said, glancing at Bethany and then Anders.

“He’s only trying to help,” Bethany said in Anders’ defense.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your help, as always. I really really do,” Hawke said feeling guilty.

“I’m always glad to help,” Anders said. “I should get going. There’s a young boy who came in last night, gravely ill.”

“Would you like some help?” Bethany asked.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Anders smiled. The two left for his Darktown clinic, and Hawke headed over to the Hanged Man. She found Varric and Fenris already sitting at one of the tables.

“Well that was a disturbing experience,” Varric said as Hawke sat down.

“You really thought so?” Hawke asked, apparently completely unphased by Xenon and his very unsettling collection. “I mean, his collection was a bit … eccentric, but everything seemed pretty harmless.”

Fenris and Varric glanced at each other, a little scared by the fact that Hawke had not been disturbed by that place.

“I think Liam might have hit you harder in the head than we thought,” Varric said. “Speaking of which - did you ever hear from him?”

“Who? Liam?” Hawke asked.

“Yeah. Word is he spent the entire night at the ball, utterly distracted and searching for someone that he never found,” Varric said.

“How do you know he was searching for Hawke?” Fenris asked.

“Oh come on. Hawke clearly caught his eye,” Varric replied. “So he didn’t send a letter or a messenger or anything, before he left?”

“I’ve received numerous letters,” Hawke said. “But none from Liam.”

“What kind of letters?” Fenris asked.

“All sorts. Challenges to duels. Letters of admiration. Announcements that someone just named their child ‘Hawke.’ A few proposals,” Hawke said.

“Get any death threats,” Varric asked. “You’re not famous until you get a crate full of those.”

“Well, death threats are hardly new for me,” Hawke said. “But yes, there are also a number of those.”

A woman rushed in and slammed the door shut behind her. The sudden booming thud brought the main hall to a hushed silence.

“Eh, what’s the big idea?” Corff, the bar tender, shouted.

“Maker preserve me,” the woman said shaking. “I sure wish someone would do something about those thugs,” she cried.

“I ‘eard Glenda was taking up a collection to offer as a reward to anyone who takes care of ‘em,” a man sitting near the door replied.

“How much is she offering?” Hawke asked, turning around.

“I dun’ know. She’s usually hangin’ ‘round upstairs most nights though,” he replied.

“I think I know who he’s talking about,” Varric said. “Go down the hall, turn the corner, first door on the left.”

Hawke took the last swig of her mug, stood up, and headed up the stairs to talk to this Glenda.

Hawke knocked, and stepped in to the open room. A young woman was sitting at a table tallying and making notes on some parchment.

“Glenda?” Hawke asked.

“Depends on who’s askin,” she replied cautiously.

“Someone said you are offering a reward for taking care of the thugs in the street,” Hawke explained.

“Oi, that’s right. I got 3 sovereigns for ya if you take care of ‘em thugs,” Glenda said. “Might have more if you get rid of others, but that there 3 sovereigns is what I got for ya at the moment.”

Hawke thanked her and returned back downstairs.

“So? What’d she say?” Varric asked.

“Three whole sovereigns,” Hawke smiled.

“Impressive,” Fenris said. Varric too was surprised that someone was able to offer that much.

“And we get to loot their bodies,” Hawke grinned.

“That’s the spirit,” Isabela winked as she approached and sat down at their table.

“Want to join us?” Hawke asked.

“Join you for what?” Isabela asked.

“Taking out the night thugs,” Hawke replied.

“What? Like right now?” Isabela asked. “But I haven’t had a drink all day.”

“One more pint then?” Varric asked. They agreed, one more pint, and then they would go have some fun with the night thugs terrorizing the Lowtown streets.

It didn’t take long to find a small band of thugs sneaking through the dark Lowntown streets. They must have been new recruits; they had little skill and were of small numbers.

“I’m starting to become concerned about Bethany,” Hawke said as they looted the bodies.

“How come?” Varric asked.

“Do you know what she said the other day? ‘That was almost fun.’ Almost fun! Killing people,” Hawke said.

“I think it’s fun, at least most of the time,” Isabela said. Varric gave her a look. “Alright, some of the time.”

“But this is Bethany, my little sister. The innocent little flower. She’s not a soldier. She should think that, that … going to noble ladies parties and eating fancy cakes is fun, not battling raiders or killing thugs,” Hawke said.

“Well, she looks up to her big sister. She sees how amazing you are and just wants to be like you. It’s only natural,” Varric said.

“My only point is that the sooner we go and come back from this expedition, the better. Then she won’t have to join me on dangerous jobs and she can focus on … being rich, or something,” Hawke said.

“There won’t _be_ any dangerous jobs after the expedition,” Varric said.

“Oh, Hawke could never give this up,” Isabela said. Varric shrugged.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said.

Fenris had piled all the bodies together, very neat like, once they had finished looting them. “Hm. There’s usually more than this,” he said.

“Agreed,” Hawke said.

“I think hear something going on down by the Foundry,” Isabela said. They stood still in the night air and listened for a moment. There was definitely something happening in that direction.

The group cautiously made their way through the streets to the Foundry, and the voices and steps indeed grew louder as they approached. They watched as a Chantry sister, all alone, spoke with a group of well-armed, and questionable looking men. The leader motioned for the sister to follow him, and together they walked further into the alley and out of sight.

“Uh oh,” Varric said.

“A poor decision on her part,” Fenris said.

“Oh please don’t say we’re going to help that fool of a woman?” Isabela asked.

“We’re out here to protect people from thugs, and you want us to let a group of them rob and murder a _sister_?” Hawke asked.

“I’m only here for the looting,” Isabela replied. “But oh, alright.”

The group hurried after the sister, into the dark alley.

“Hey, someone’s coming,” they heard a man whisper, followed by the sound of several swords being unsheathed.

“I don’t like interruptions,” the leader said. “Not when this mark is so promising. Get them!” he shouted as Hawke rounded the corner.

Lady growled low and leapt forward at one of the archers, knocking him to the ground. Isabela disappeared into the shadows the moment the fighting broke out. Varric pinned down a few of the outliers, and Fenris and Hawke charged forward, taking on the brunt of the group. Isabela had been lost in the chaos and confusion, and the enemy gang either never realized she was there or had forgotten about her, until she emerged behind the leader, flanking him, and driving her blade deep into the sweet spot - his right kidney.

The last man fell, and panting heavily they wiped the blood from their blades and faces. They surveyed the area: roughly eight thugs dead. None of them had suffered any great injury, just a scratch or bruise here and there. Lady was relieving herself on the dead leader of the thug gang. And the sister …. Hawke thought, searching for her. The sister stepped forward out of the shadows, remarkably composed and completely untouched.

“Thank you for your timely intervention. My name is Sister Petrice,” she said. “And I am … out of my element.”

“A foolish risk in Lowtown, particularly at night,” Hawke said.

“I had to come here, to get the type of person I need. Someone of bloody skill, but also integrity,” the sister explained. You know, something completely normal for a sister to say. It raised a few warning flags with the group. “Perhaps the kind that might leap to someone’s defense.”

Hawke remained silent, waiting to hear what it was that the sister wanted.

“I have a charge that needs passage from the city. If you are willing and capable, meet me at this safe house, tomorrow evening,” the sister said and handed Hawke a small map scribbled on a scrap of parchment.

“I just saved you in a dark alley, and suddenly we’re in business?” Hawke asked.

“You’re in Lowtown. What grand schemes could you possibly have?” The sister was right, but the arrogance of this woman was quickly chipping away at Hawke’s charitable disposition and her already limited supply of patience.

“Varnell,” the sister called out. A templar stepped forward.

“Not so helpless after all, I see,” Hawke said.

The sister and the templar left quickly, and the group just watched them go.

“I knew we shouldn’t have helped her,” Isabela said.

“I’m beginning to agree,” Hawke said sourly. “However, the woman did pique my interest. What on earth could a sister be involved in, that would require someone with ‘bloody skill?’ And integrity? Bah! She was about to hire that other group before they nearly jumped her. So clearly anyone will do. And I want to know why.”

“Ey, what happened here?” A man shouted as he and his company approached the alley that was filled with his dead compatriots and a lot of blood. “You’ll pay for this!”

Hawke, Fenris, Varric, Isabela, & Lady rooted out at least four other small groups of thugs that night. They had searched the bodies for any clues as to where their hideout was, but they hadn’t found much. Isabela found a few pocket sized, heavily worn, nude portraits which she claimed for herself. Hawke found a few charms and a rather nice pendant that would fetch a decent price. The lot didn’t have much coin, roughly sixty-three silver pieces in total. She divided it evenly between the four of them, and took the shorter share for herself.

“Tomorrow then, we are to meet this magistrate?” Fenris asked before they went their separate ways for the night.

“Yes. The letter I received asked that I meet him in Hightown, just outside of the Chantry,” Hawke said.

“The plan is to meet him in the morning, and then see about this sister’s safe house in the evening?” Varric asked.

“I can’t make it tomorrow. Sorry Hawke,” Isabela said.

“No worries, Isabela. And yes, that’s the plan,” Hawke said.


	13. The Blood of Elves

It was a warm morning, warmer than most of the other recent mornings. The sky was clear, and generally Hawke felt good about the day.

“Charlie, a package arrived for you early this morning,” Leandra said. Hawke stepped out of her room, still in her night shift and attempting to brush her hair. “It’s from the First Enchanter,” Leandra said nervously.

Hawke took the package and carefully untied the twin and unwrapped the muslin cloth. Inside were a handful of small books, an old ring, a slightly faded portrait, a handful of letters, a silk handkerchief with the initials KT embroidered in the corner, and a journal. “This is more than I was expecting,” Hawke said.

“What is this all about?” Leandra asked.

“It’s nothing,” Hawke said distracted. “Listen, I’m going to run over to Anders’ quickly. Tell Bethany I’ll be back in a flash.”

Hawke finished dressing in a hurry and didn’t bother tying her back. She re-wrapped the packaged as best as she could, and dashed out the door in her tunic and trousers.

The clinic was bustling that morning.

“What’s going on?” Hawke asked as she entered.

“Rats,” Anders said, emerging from the chaos. “Someone accidentally kicked a hole in the back wall and a bunch of rats spilled out. I think we’ve just about taken care of them all. What’s that?” He asked, noticing the package in her arms.

“I … it’s for you,” Hawke said. “After you told me about Karl, that night on the docks, I got wondering if there was any way to retrieve his personal belongings from the circle. I told the First Enchanter that Karl’s father and my father were good friends, and that his family would want his belongings. So I asked if he would send me any of his belongings that they might still have. I didn’t know what to expect, since it’s been a while since … since Karl died. And this is everything that the First Enchanter sent over.” She handed him the package.

Anders set it on the nearby table and carefully opened it. He pulled out each of the books and gently stacked them on top of each other. He rubbed the silk handkerchief between his fingers, tracing Karl’s initials, and clutched it tightly in his hand. He clenched his eyes shut when he pulled out the faded portrait of Karl.

“Hawke,” Anders choked up. “I … I can’t believe it. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Anders gave Hawke a hug, not wanting to let go.

“I’m glad they still had some of his belongings,” Hawke said, and patted him on the back. “And I wish I could stay longer, but I’m supposed to meet with Bethany …”

“Before you go and see the magistrate,” Anders finished her sentence. “Thank you again, Hawke.”

“Good luck with the rats,” Hawke said. She waved goodbye and hurried back to the house.

She returned home to find that her mother was still anxious over the package that had arrived.

“It’s nothing,” Hawke said, hurriedly throwing on her armor.

“Really now,” Leandra said.

“It was something for Anders mother. It’s no big deal,” Hawke said. “Stop worrying. It has nothing to do with Bethany.” She was finally ready and she bolted out the door. Bethany was waiting in the small square just outside their home waiting for her and enjoying the nice weather.

“I like your new tunic,” Hawke said to Bethany. It was about the same color as the other one she often wore, perhaps a bit more ivory than the other, but it was of a different design and the fabric had a soft sheen to it. It had a light blue design embroidered around the neckline, and it fit Bethany perfectly.

“Me too,” Bethany smiled wide. “I’m so thankful that Mother was able to get such a good bargain on it. I’m still not sure how she did it. I can never get any of the merchants to lower their prices.”

“Mother certainly makes it look easy,” Hawke agreed.

“She says it’s an art,” Bethany said.

“I find being intimidating is usually all I need,” Hawke grinned, joking, a little.

“So what did the magistrate’s letter say again?” Bethany asked.

“Not much. Just that the matter is of grave importance, that he is paying well, and that it would behoove me to have a friend in the magistrates,” Hawke said. “There was also a vague implication of us trying to regain the family estate.”

“Like he might be able to help us get it back?” Bethany asked.

“That was the implication. Whether he actually can or not, that remains to be seen,” Hawke said.

They met Varric just outside of the Hanged Man, and made their way through the city to Hightown.

“Phew, it’s a little warm out today,” Varric said, wiping the sweat off his brow as they climbed the steps leading out of the Hightown market.

“Out of shape, are we?” Hawke teased.

“Too much walking,” Varric said.

Fenris was waiting for them near the stairs that led to the Viscount’s office. He was leaning against a building, standing in the shade of a vined trellis, lost in broody thought. He heard Varric’s panting and looked up, and joined them as they continued to the steps of the Chantry. As always, there were many people in the square: a great number of sisters and brothers, some merchants, a number of noble men and women. None stood out as the magistrate they were there to meet.

“Hawke is it?”A man called out, descending the steps that led to the Upper Hightown, the same area where Fenris lived. They turned around when he spoke. “I’ve heard you have dealings with certain … elements … in the city. You can get things done, ‘on the sly,’ as they say.”

“That’s a fancy way of putting it,” Hawke said.

“I am a magistrate in this city and as such, I wish to hire you for a small, albeit, important job,” he said. “A man I sentenced to a life in prison has escaped custody. He’s been tracked to an abandoned ruin outside the city.”

“Why is there such a clamor to catch this man, what has he done?” Hawke asked.

“He has escaped. That’s reason enough to catch him,” the magistrate replied.

“I don’t understand why you have sought me out for this? This sounds exactly the sort of situation that the guard should be handling,” Hawke said.

“This is, unfortunately a … delicate matter, and as such, I need this handled as quickly and quietly as possible. The more guards who know, the easier it is for this to get out. Those men gossip like old fishwives,” the magistrate replied.

“I’m not sure about that,” Hawke said.

“Bring the fugitive in alive, quickly, and quietly,” he instructed. He handed Hawke a small piece of paper and headed to the Chantry.

“Aveline is going to love hearing about this,” Varric said quietly.

“Indeed,” Hawke said. “Which is why I think I might just not tell her.”

The abandoned ruin wasn’t far outside the city at all, which Hawke was very grateful for, Varric too. When they arrived, they approached the group of guards standing watch outside the ruins.

“I’ve been sent for the man you’ve cornered in the ruins,” Hawke explained when the man in charge approached.

“Ah, so you’re the reinforcements the magistrate promised,” he said. “The man you’re looking for, he’s holed up in the ruins. Though I doubt he’s still in one piece.”

“That bastard’s to be brought in alive, after all he’s done? Just because it isn’t you and your pretty little shemlen children he’s after?” An angry elf shouted as he marched toward Hawke and the guards.

“Go back to-” the guard began to reply, but Hawke cut him off.

“Please, calm down and tell me what happened,” Hawke said.

“The man you’re after, he targets elves. He dragged my daughter into those ruins and killed her! I want him dead!” The poor father yelled. “My girl, Lia, she wasn’t his first victim. Over the years he’s taken dozens of our children and not once has he paid for his crimes!”

“How can he have not paid for his crimes, if it is known that he is the one responsible?” Hawke asked. “Are his claims true?” She asked, turning to the guard.

“We’re nothing to them. Even if this murderer does finally go before the courts, the magistrate won’t take our word over his,” the elven man said. “For all my damned coin, I’m still only an elf to these shemlen. There’ll be no justice for my girl in the courts of Kirkwall. Please, no one else cares that our children are being slaughtered like beasts.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Hawke said politely.

“I’m Elren. I’m a merchant in the city,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you Elren, though, certainly I wish they were under different circumstances. My name is Hawke. Well, technically that is my ser name but it’s what everyone seems to call me,” Hawke said. “Rest assured, I will not allow this murderer to walk free, you have my word,” Hawke said.

“Then that bastard will finally get what he deserves. Thank you,” Elren said in tears.

“Not wise stranger. You try to take justice into your own hands, the magistrate’ll have your head,” the guard said.

“The magistrate and the courts had their chance at justice. If they won’t see that it is done, then I will. And the magistrate can stuff it up his ass for all I care,” Hawke said.

It was unusual, Hawke’s reaction. It wasn’t that it was out of character for her. Hawke, despite that her work was a bit gray and not as blazing white as Aveline would have liked it, Hawke always did try to protect others. But there was something in her voice and her demeanor. She was taking this a bit harder than normal, given that she wasn’t an elf herself.

The ruins were dilapidated, and it was obvious that there were … critters … down there was well. Hawke cursed when they saw the first large spiderweb. It didn’t take them long before they ran into a number of the buggars, but Hawke held her ground and channeled her rage into the fight. They wandered the halls of the ruins, finding a number of dead ends and empty rooms.

“Just where is this guy?” Varric asked.

“Hopefully in this next room,” Hawke said as she pulled open an old, creaky door. But there was no man in the large empty room. Instead they found a small, elven child. Presumably one of the man’s victims?

“Who are you? Please, can you get me out of here? I just want to go home,” a young elven girl said. Her face was stained with tear trails and soot, and her faded pink dress was dirtied. It was a miracle that the spiders hadn’t gotten her.

“Lia?” Hawke asked. The girl nodded and wiped the tears from her face. “Your father told us you were dead.”

“My father? Is he safe? Kelder said that he’d hurt my family if I didn’t come with him,” she replied.

“Kelder?” Hawke asked.

“Kelder … is the man who took me,” Lia said.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Hawke asked.

“He … he hit me … told me I was nothing. I begged him to stop hurting me. I didn’t think he would, but out of nowhere, he pushed me away and just … started crying,” she said.

“Oh the poor girl,” Bethany whispered.

“He let me go and I tried to get out, but then those … things, they started coming out of the walls,” Lia said and another tear trickled down her face. “I thought I heard him calling for me. I almost went back to him. I didn’t want to be eaten! ”

“He … let you go?” Hawke asked confused. Lia nodded her head.

“He didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s just like he said: the demons, they made him do those horrible things,” she explained.

“Ah, demons,” Hawke sighed. “But of course.”

“Please don’t kill him. It’s not his fault, really,” Lia said.

“She’s too young to understand,” Fenris said. “Her pity is admirable, but misplaced.”

“Lia, we cleared the way. The path to the entrance is safe. Go to your father. We’ll go find Kelder,” Hawke said.

“Thank you,” Lia said, and hugged Hawke before she ran off toward the entrance.

“I guess this means that door leads to where Kelder is,” Varric said.

“Let’s hope,” Bethany said.

Indeed it did. The door led them to another corridor, and after a few turns, opened up to another room, though smaller than the one Lia had been in. And there, sitting on the floor, was a well-dressed, though now considerably dirtied, man.

“I knew my father would eventually send someone. I was hoping the beasts down here would get me first,” the man said.

“You wanted those creatures to kill you?” Hawke asked.

“It’s what I deserve. I should be torn apart, forgotten down here. Not protected by my father,” he said.

“The magistrate sent me. I’ve never met your father,” Hawke said.

“He didn’t tell you, did he? The magistrate _is_ my father. He’s tried so hard to keep me - and what I’ve done - hidden away,” he said.

“Not hard enough, so it seems,” Fenris said.

“The magistrate is supposed to protect the people of the city, and _that_ includes the elves,” Hawke said.

“Father is a good man. He tried to help, to stop me. But he can’t … no one can. ….. That elf girl, she had no right to be so beautiful, so perfect. The demons said she needed to be taught a lesson, like all the others. The circle was supposed to help me, but they lied! They said there were no demons, that I was mad. This isn’t my fault!” Kelder proclaimed.

“You torture and murder elven children for being too beautiful?!” Hawke demanded.

“I … I didn’t want to hurt them. The forced me! The demons don’t like it when they cry!” he cried.

“Lia said you told her to run. Why?” Hawke asked.

“I was … crying and she asked me if I was all right. After everything the demons made me do to her, she was concerned about _me_. How could I let them destroy something so good? So pure?” he explained.

“If the circle suspected a demon at work, they wouldn’t risk letting you loose in the city,” Hawke said.

“No, no! They lied! I can’t stop. I’ve tried, so many times. Please, you have to kill me. There’s no other way,” he begged.

“He sees the truth of it. Allow me to grant his wish, if you will not,” Fenris said.

“No, I will gladly end this myself,” Hawke said firmly. There was a righteous wrath in her eyes that Fenris had never seen before. Fenris searched Hawke’s face trying to understand where her anger was coming from. It seemed this was more than justice defending others, to her. Hawke pulled a short dagger out of her boot, and without pause, hesitation, or further ceremony, she slit his throat in one fluid motion. She wiped her blade on the back of the man’s shirt, searched him for any belongings, and strode out of the room with a hard, cold face.

He didn’t have much. There was an amulet, though it looked like it might have been locket. A ring with a family crest, a small coin purse, and small jeweled dagger.

They made their way back to the guard camp, where Elren was waiting and where hopefully Lia had managed to find her way back to by now.

“You saved her! My little girl, I didn’t dare hope …” Elren said, sobbing and his holding his daughter tightly. “Did you find that monster? Is he dead?”

“He won’t harm Lia or anyone else, _ever_ again,” Hawke replied.

“I didn’t believe an elf could ever get justice in Kirkwall. I speak for all of us when I say that we are in your debt, serah,” Elren said.

“You owe me no debt,” Hawke said. “His crimes demanded justice. His victims were owed justice. The magistrate should have done this. I simply did what the magistrate would not. You owe me nothing, serah. And I am relieved that your daughter was alive, and more-or-less well.” Elren finished thanking Hawke, and hurried to take his little girl home.

“I feel just as bad for those knife ears as the next man, but ignoring the magistrate’s direct orders? That’s madness,” the guardsman said.

“ _Say knife ear one more time!_ ” Hawke threatened. The guardsman stepped back quickly and nearly tripped over the pack that was laying on the ground behind him.

“Charlie, you okay?” Bethany whispered as the group headed back to Kirkwall in the afternoon sun.

“Yes, I just … “ Hawke said, unable to give life to her emotions through words.

“It reminded you of Peyton?” Bethany asked.

“Yeah,” Hawke said softly.

Varric and Fenris remained quiet, and Bethany and Hawke spoke no more after that as they re-entered the city. Hawke met at the magistrate at the stairs of the Chantry once again.

“Where is he?” the magistrate asked.

“He’s dead,” Hawke said, not trying to hide her anger.

“What?! What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, but keeping his volume down to prevent causing a scene.

“You tell me, your grace. Are you not the one sworn to protect _all_ the people of the city? Is providing justice not your role?” Hawke asked.

“You have some nerve. And a sizable set of balls,” he said, looking her up and down with disgust and disbelief. “This won’t be the last you hear from me!” With that the magistrate hurriedly left the square, mumbling under his breath and clenching his fists.

“What about the boy’s personal affects?” Fenris asked.

“I plan on keeping them, in case the magistrate ever decides to retaliate,” Hawke said.

“Good plan,” Varric whispered.

“Yet another job without getting paid,” Fenris said as they left the square.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said.

“I apologize. That’s not what I meant,” Fenris said.

“Hopefully Petrice pays as well as she promised,” Bethany said.

“Let’s hope Sunshine,” Varric said.

They had roughly six hours before they were supposed to meet at Sister Petrice’s safe house. Everyone used the time to return home and wash the corpse cuts and spider goo off their armor, weapons, and out of their hair, and planned to rendezvous at the Hanged Man for dinner before going to see Sister Petrice.

Bethany and Fenris arrived first. Of course, Varric was already there, but he was busy wrapping up some other business when they arrived.

“Bethany, earlier you mentioned Peyton?” Fenris asked.

“She was Charlie’s closest friend,” Bethany explained.

“And an elf?” Fenris asked. Bethany nodded.

“Lothering was a small farm town. It was far enough away from the big cities and the laws of civilized society,” Bethany explained. “It was easier to hide from the templars, and they weren’t as … strict as they are here. Lothering was a good place for many who didn’t fit in within society, such as apostates, even some Chasind. Likewise, it wasn’t big enough to have its own an alienage. There weren’t many elves in the area, and it’s true that overall humans still didn’t like them much, but they had an easier time in Lothering I think. Peyton’s family lived in the house closest to ours. She was an elf, like both of her parents. Her real father had died when she was young, and her mother ended up marrying a human, which provided them a little more stability. Charlie … she never had this concept that elves were ‘other.’ To Charlie everyone is just who they are, and that does mean that everyone is different but the differences are all equal. You know? That no one’s differences made them less or more than others. Everyone has different customs and different heritages, but it was nothing more than that. And Peyton was much the same. She didn’t harbor any hatred toward humans any more than Charlie did to elves. They became friends not long after we moved to Lothering, and they both used to talk about becoming great warrior heroes. They would spend _hours_ in the woods playing soldier, sparring and running around, and coming home with a number of bruises and scraped knees. They were practically sisters to each other, and eventually they both joined the King’s Army. But Charlie had to watch as Peyton was treated differently at every turn. She was always denied things that Charlie was granted without a second thought. Even though Peyton was a skilled fighter, even more so than Charlie, she was relegated to a unit that was nicknamed ‘the Dregs.’ They were never assigned any meaningful tasks, and thus they could never gain any respect from their peers or their commanders. They saw less and less of each other because they were in different units, and Charlie’s unit was often assigned tasks that required them to travel to somewhere else. Charlie returned from one of those assignments to find out that Peyton had been … assaulted … by another soldier. The soldier received a slap on the wrist and flimsy warning not to do it again. Peyton was put on suspension. They told her she was weak, that if she really didn’t want it that she would have been able to have stop him - if she had truly been worthy of being a soldier. Charlie made a real big fuss about it. She was put on suspension, and her whole unit wanted nothing to do with the ‘knife-ear lover.’ They teased Charlie mercilessly, saying that they were lovers and that’s the only reason that a human would ever care so much for an elf. But while Charlie was teased, Peyton was harassed. They painted hateful things over the dregs barrack doors, broke windows, and stood outside and harassed the Dregs as they came and went. The Dregs eventually told her that she could no longer live there, that she had to move to the alienage because they were tired of suffering on her behalf. Once in the alienage, Peyton found out that she was pregnant … and she killed herself. That was only a few months before the army was sent to Ostagar,” Bethany said.

“Thank you Bethany,” Fenris said. He didn’t know what else to say, but it explained a great deal about Hawke’s earlier behavior and gave him much to think about.


	14. The Blood of Freedom

Hawke & Varric joined Bethany & Fenris shortly thereafter, and after a quick bite to eat, they headed out in the dusk light to the Lowtown safe house that Sister Petrice had indicated.

They knocked at the door softly, but no response came. A quick check revealed that it was unlocked, so they entered the house to find Varnell, the same templar from the other knight, standing ready with sword drawn.

“Whoa,” Hawke said. “I’m expected.”

Sister Petrice stepped into the room and motioned to the templar to step down. “I thank you for coming,” she said. “This matter is delicate and I need someone of … limited notoriety who will not link this to me.”

 _Oddly forthright,_ Varric thought.

“Oh good. Someone else with a delicate problem that must be kept quiet,” Bethany whispered.

“It is only an escort, but I think you will agree that the nature of the party makes this … unique,” she said. “I have assumed a burden of charity, and this is my charge.” She motioned to a figure that stepped forward from the dark corner of the room. A Qunari.

“A saarebas? Here?” Fenris asked.

“Would even a templar bind a mage like this?” Petrice asked. “He’s a survivor of infighting with the Tal-Vashoth outcasts. I call him Ketojan. A bridge between worlds. The Viscount and others feel that peace begins with appeasement. This mage will likely be returned to his brutal kin. He can serve a better purpose. I want to see him _free._ He must be guided from the city without alerting his people, _or_ being seen in my care.”

“You don’t just stumble onto something, er someone, like this,” Hawke said.

“For all their blasphemous certainty, the Qunari do have deserters. Those who seek freedom are hunted mercilessly,” Petrice said.

“Tal-Vashoth. They seem to accept the role,” Hawke said.

“Even their rebels conform. Ser Varnell observed one of their bloody exchanges. This poor mage was the only survivor,” Petrice said.

“And you think this mage was being hunted?” Hawke asked.

“I am certain no thinking creature would willingly submit to this. If he was not running before, he has seized the opportunity now,” she replied.

“If you’re so intent on this, why not use Chantry resources?” Hawke asked.

“My order will soon realize the Qunari presence is more than a test of faith - it is an open challenge. But for now, I must act on my own. Helping this mage shows how Qunari heresy cannot be ignored. His flight is vital,” Petrice said.

“Uh huh,” Varric whispered.

“How free will he truly be?” Hawke asked. “A new life with that collar seems doubtful.”

“And yet it is more than he has. My reach is limited. His struggle is his own,” Petrice said.

“It just seems like releasing a bird, cage and all,” Hawke said.

“We do what we can to step toward what is right. That must be enough,” Petrice preached. At least Hawke agreed with her on that.

“I’ve had dealings with the Arishok,” Hawke said. Though, thinking back to the last contact she had with him, regarding the vitaar, she wasn’t sure how he felt about her anymore. “I’m sure he would want to know about this.”

“You … have dealt with the Arishok?” Petrice asked, surprised. “If you have interacted with the Qunari, you know how they treat those who leave their heathen order. The Arishok would doom this poor creature. But knowing them is useful. If they challenged you, attacking an ally would only confirm their barbarism. You are still right for the task. Perhaps even more so than I previously realized.”

“Can he … help? Can he defend himself, should the need arise?” Hawke asked.

“I don’t know his capabilities or even if he can function at all in that collar, but I think he knows we are his only way out,” she said.

“You think?” Hawke asked.

“He’s followed every direction. Qunari or not, I can only assume that he wants to be led to freedom,” she said.

“And if you’re wrong, _I_ have to deal with it,” Hawke said.

“That’s why I went to Lowtown. You are either capable of the discretion and skill that I need, or you are not,” she said.

Hawke didn’t like the situation, and she was liking Petrice even less by the second. But Hawke _did_ agree that the treatment of this mage was wrong, and if he could be freed, she would like to help.

“I will help get him out of the city then,” Hawke said. “He’s a bit conspicuous for the streets though.”

“That is obviously not an option. You must avoid incident with the guards - I cannot be linked to this. This mage will be a fine example of how cruel Qunari are, even to their own. But _only_ if this plays out _just_ so,” Petrice said.

 _Not foreboding at all_ , Varric whispered.

“The passage here leads to the warrens of the Undercity. It is dangerous, but that is why you are hired. Good luck,” she said.

“Ketojan is it?” Hawke asked, speaking to her new charge. “You need to be led out of the city?”

He replied only with grunts and grumbles, through lips that were sewn shut and the massive collar and that was quite literally chained to him.

“The eyes of a slave,” Fenris said. “Does he want freedom, or a master?”

“It has been difficult to get information,” Petrice said. “But look at him. Would you want this? We must have that in common.”

Varnell opened the trap door hatch in the back room, and the group descended the long ladder that connected the Undercity to the Lowtown safe house. The rungs weren’t very wide and the ladder shook with all of them descending at once - it made them each a bit nervous. But at last they reached the Undercity tunnel, safe and sound.

It was dark but there was a light up ahead, on the other side of a tattered curtain that hung over the doorway.

“Hold up,” Varric said. “What are they trying to do? Ruin my boots?” He bent down and carefully disarmed a set of traps set in the floor, just on the other side of the curtain. At first their journey was empty. Stuffy, smelly, and the ground a bit squishy, but no sign of trouble. It didn’t last long. A slew of vermin, particularly of the eight-legged variety, poured into the room from a large hole in one of the walls.

“Whyyyy?” Hawke howled as she unsheathed her sword. They seemed endless. The clash of metal, the heavy stomping, and the screeching the critters made only attracted more. Who knows how many caverns lie beneath the city’s tunnels, and how many tunnel walls have collapsed or been burrowed through. But they fell before Hawke’s blade, just like everything else does, until eventually they were surrounded by nothing but spider corpses and oozing spider guts. Bethany used a water spell to try and wash them all off. It worked decently, though there were several bits that were missed. Hawke kept scratching herself and jumping every time she thought she felt something crawling on her.

“The mage seems indifferent to our struggles,” Fenris said. His voice echoed in the empty halls and rooms. “Even with his freedom as the prize.”

“Perhaps it’s just as Sister Petrice said,” Bethany replied. “Maybe the collar prevents him from doing anything.”

“Shhh,” Varric said and motioned them to slow down. In the distance they could hear something faint. Maybe footsteps? More spiders? But it could also have been small falling rock, or even the sound of water? They proceeded forward with caution through a few more halls and then into a large opening. A group of men stepped into the opening from the other side.

“Ahhh, look at this. Undercity is feared by all, but there’s no shortage of fools with coin who wish to test it,” their leader said. He looked Hawke’s group over closely, and not surprisingly he stopped when he saw the Qunari.

“What is this thing? Collared like a dog lord’s bitch. You some sort of Qunari lover? Maybe I should get rid of you and see who will pay the most for your _pet,_ ” he said.

Ketojan stepped forward slightly and grunted and mumbled through his stitched lips.

“I … don’t think it likes you threatenin’ its master. Maybe we let this one pass,” one of the thugs’ men said.

“A voice of reason? What’s he doing with you?” Hawke jested.

“You lot think you’re so damn right, buying everything and running Free Marcher’s like me into our own sewers,” the leader spat. “You want us bound like this thing. Well I’ll see you dead first.” The man removed a dagger from his belt, but before he could make a move Ketojan raised his hands and dropped them in a swift, firm motion. The leader fell to the ground spewing blood, and blazing in hot fire. The force repelled a number of the other thugs, knocking some to their asses.

“By the void!” The voice of reason exclaimed. “Kill it! Kill them all!”

You would really think that people would want to avoid attacking Hawke, but something about her just seemed to scream _yes, please attack me good sir._

They were tougher than your average thug; they had to be in order to survive the Undercity, and to be able to rob others in the Undercity. But that just meant that it took longer for them to die, because die they most certainly did.

Ketojan was still grunting and ready to throw fire after the fight had finished.

“Calm yourself Ketojan. The danger has passed,” Hawke soothed.

“Do you think it knows we’re on its side?” Varric asked.

“He didn’t attack any of us, so it would seem he understands that we are his allies,” Hawke said. But it was unsettling, not being able to speak with him and not being able to understand what his motivations or goals were. It was still possible that he could turn on them.

Unfortunately, Petrice had failed to mention just how far the Undercity passage extended, and thus how long it would take them to reach the exit. It was several hours later. They had considered finding a small room to camp in for the night, but decided against it. They still weren’t sure if they could trust the Qunari, and they were all a target in the Undercity, especially Ketojan. It was best to get him out of the city as soon as possible. Thus they marched through the night, the tunnels and hallways dimly lit by the occasional lantern light. Eventually the Undercity tunnels led to the Vimmark Mountain pass. The sun was just beginning to rise when they exited the tunnel and stepped foot into a small sandy alcove in the Vimmark Mountains.

Hawke had expected to find another sister or maybe a brother, waiting for them to take Ketojan away to his new life. Instead, they found a large group of Qunari, possibly Tal-Vashoth, waiting and sitting around a camp fire.

“You will hold, basra vashedan. I am Arvaarad and I claim possession of saarebas at your heel,” one of the Qunari said. “The members of his karataam were killed by Tal-Vashoth, but their disposal leads only here, to saarebas and you.”

“I just got here,” Hawke said. “Coming from the opposite direction. If there is a trail, I did not leave it.”

“Yet here you are with saarebas. The crime is his freedom, his leash held by unknowing basra,” Arvaarad replied. “We will not allow that danger to continue. Let your own mages doom you - saarebas will be properly confined.”

“And if he doesn’t want to go back?” Hawke challenged.

Arvaarad stepped forward, and everyone made ready in case he meant to attack. “Saarebas! Show that your will remains bond to the Qun.” Ketojan knelt and growled, once again stifled by the stitches.

“He has only followed you because he wants to be led. He is allowed no other purpose,” Arvaarad stated.

“He is bound and abused, and you want him caged? Why?” Hawke asked.

“The power that he has, that all saarebas have, draws from chaos and demons. They can never be in control,” the Qunari said.

“So you fear them,” Bethany said.

“We leash saarebas because they are dangerous and contagious. Not even your templars fully grasp that threat,” he said.

“You don’t care that someone abused your dead to get your here?” Hawke asked.

“It is a crime whose victims are beyond caring. It will dealt with, but the greater threat is clear. It is my role to secure saarebas. It is the role of another to purge the perversion of your kind,” he said.

“I’m not giving him to you,” Hawke said. “He’ll follow his own path.”

“He wants what the Qun demands. He is nothing else,” the Arvaarad said. “You, basra - your kind have no sense. The opportunity for reason will be forced upon you. You will all be brought to the Qun!” With his declaration, Arvaarad pulled out a large rod and activated it. Ketojan growled in pain, and was forced to his hands and knees, unable to move.

“I don’t like this,” Varric shouted as the fighting began. “I really don’t like this!”

“Do you have another suggestion?” Hawke shouted.

“Let’s focus on surviving,” Fenris instructed.

“Sure thing elf,” Varric shouted.

Seriously. If anyone ever asks if you would like to fight a Qunari, just say no. Their size alone should give one pause. Add to that their insane determination and confidence, impressive skill, terrifying strength, oh and let’s not forget that they can harden their skin using that crazy vitaar paint of theirs. A fight with one of them would be brutal. But Hawke, no, Hawke had to challenge a large group of them. Again.

Javelins and spears soared through the air. Varric managed to skirt them all, but it was nearly impossible for him to find a safe area to fire arrows from. Bethany too found there was no option to simply stand farther back from the group. They were surrounded. Fenris charged and took the brunt of the attack, but Hawke remained by Bethany’s side. They fought back to back as much as possible. Hawke charged forward to push back their opponents whenever she could, careful to not let them get within striking range of Bethany. Bethany cried out as a javelin crashed into the ground beside her, tearing through the side of her right calf as it did so.

“Bethany!” Hawke shouted.

“I’m alright. I’ll be alright,” Bethany shouted back. She quickly stopped the bleeding with a nifty spell that Anders had taught her. Unfortunately, it was only temporary and required a good deal of focus to maintain.

The Arvaarad was among the last to fall. He landed a heavy blow to Hawke’s shoulder, forcing her to knees. She winced from the pain of the blow, but quickly pivoted and stood, dodging the following blow that surely would have killed her. She stood ready to face him, panting heavily. A thick arrow shot through his neck, the point facing Hawke. Blood spattered across Hawke’s face and the front of her armor.

“Thanks Varric,” Hawke panted. She carefully sheathed her sword, trying not to aggravate her arm any further.

“Can you stand?” Hawke said to Ketojan when the fight was finally over. Ketojan grunted and pointed to the rod that the Arvaarad had used before. Hawke picked it up and after messing around with it, managed to flip the switch effectively disabling the Ketojan’s collar. He slowly stood up.

“I … am … unbound. Odd. Wrong. But you deserve honor,” he said. He voice was rough and deep. “You are now Basvaarad, worthy of following. I thank your intent, even if it was … wrong. I know the will of Arvaarad. I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom … of the Qun.” As he spoke he began to walk away, heading toward the water.

“So after all of this, now you want to die?” Hawke asked. Her stomach twisted in knots. So much abuse, so much manipulation. So much struggle. He could be free, but he would rather choose death.

“I do not want to die. I want to live by the Qun,” Ketojan said.

“Which means dying!” Hawke replied, begging, pleading with the tone of her voice.

“Yes. Is that hard to grasp?” Ketojan asked calmly.

“Could you have returned if I had let the others live?” Hawke asked.

“No,” he replied simply.

“So you were doomed from the start?” Hawke asked.

“I was outside my karataam. I may be corrupted. I cannot know. How I return is my choice. It must be. But that does not mean there is no meaning,” Ketojan said.

“Others of your kind live outside the Qun. You could join them,” Hawke said.

“They are not my kind. I am Qunari. They are not,” Ketojan said.

“They have chosen to be free,” Hawke said.

“Free? They have refused what they _are_. I … cannot choose to ‘not be,’” Ketojan replied.

“I can’t let you do this. I won’t let you do this,” Hawke begged.

“If you force choice, it is not choice. Your doubt does not make me wrong,” Ketojan said. “Certainty is comfort. That is the way of Qunari. The way of the Qun.” He removed something from his belt and stepped closer to Hawke.

“Take this … secret thing, basvaarad. Remember this day,” he said, and placed it in her hand. He stepped away and raised his hands above his head, engulfing his entire body in flames. Hawke stumbled back several steps.

“I would choose death over servitude,” Fenris said softly.

“She might not have known about this, but clearly Petrice set a trail right to us,” Bethany said, tears rolling down her face.

Hawke clenched the amulet tightly in her hand, the hard metal digging into her hand. Her heart was drowning in the lower swamps of her stomach. She had enough of the cruelty of others for a life time.

They returned to the city by mid-day, tired and haggard.

“Do we have to deal with Petrice now?” Bethany asked.

“No, you go home and get some rest. Take care of your leg,” Hawke said.

“And you?” Bethany asked.

“I cannot give Petrice time to disappear. This is the only chance we may get to confront her and get the answers we need,” Hawke said.

Bethany did as Hawke asked and returned home. The others went with Hawke to the safe house. Hawke didn’t bother knocking this time.

“Leave nothing. It must be clean with no ties,” they heard Petrice say as they entered. “It … Well. My helpful associate from the streets,” she said, turning to greet Hawke. “You took the Qunari from the city? Without incident?”

“I think the ‘incident’ was rather your idea,” Varric said.

“Mind your tongue, _dwarf_ ,” Varnell snarled. Hawke stepped forward, glaring poisonous daggers at the foolish templar.

“Please, do you speak your mind,” Petrice said. Something only those who don’t know Hawke would ever actually encourage.

“This was a damned round-about way of trying to kill me!” Hawke said.

“Do you _really_ think yourself _so_ important?” Petrice scoffed. “ _If_ someone saw an opportunity in the mage, _if_ the Qunari murdered those who tried to help it, yes, that might have been useful. But it certainly wouldn’t be personal. The Chantry must see the Qunari as the monsters they are. _If_ some must die for their eyes to be opened, then such sacrifices would be justified.”

“Perhaps I should return the favor,” Hawke venomously suggested.

“Violence here serves no purpose. And my disappearance would not go unnoticed. So take your coin, and disappear back into Lowtown,” she spat.

“I won’t forget this sister,” Hawke said.

Sister Petrice and Ser Varnell quickly exited the safe house, dropping the coin purse on the floor as they did so.

“We’ll be hearing from that one again,” Fenris said.

“I look forward to it,” Hawke seethed.

Despite everything else that Petrice had done, she at least kept her word. She paid quite handsomely, as a matter of fact. It more than made up for the job they completed at the magistrate’s request.


	15. The Blood of Templars

After Kelder and Ketojan, it was Hawke’s turn to be broody for a few days, and downright grouchy. She focused her attention on clearing night thugs for several nights in a row. They took out the Sharps in Lowtown, and gathered their 3 sovereigns from Glenda, and finally seemed to be in a better mood after doing so.

Hawke sat down at their usual table and Varric made change for Hawke so she could divvy out Glenda’s reward.

“Soooo Hawke,” Isabela said. “A little birdie told me that you were at the Blooming Rose the other day.” Fenris nearly choked on a sip of wine, and Anders spewed ale back into his mug. “Do share what sort of naughty things you’ve been up to.”

“What’s this?” Varric laughed.

“Well,” Hawke said, trying her best to imitate a sexy, sultry voice. “You know how _awfully_ curious I am.”

“Yes,” Isabela said.

“And how _terribly_ hungry I can get,” Hawke continued.

“Yesss,” Isabela said, waiting for the juicy details.

“Well. Some templar recruits have gone missing, and there was mention of strange templar initiation rituals, and yet they were all last seen at the Blooming Rose. Sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, naturally, and counting on a reward, I went to the Blooming Rose to get some more information,” Hawke said.

“What about the terribly hungry part?” Isabela pouted.

“Well, you can’t eat if you can’t buy food. And I should be able to buy a lot of food once I get paid,” Hawke said.

“Oh, you’re cruel,” Isabela laughed. Fenris & Anders both softly sighed with relief.

“So what did you find out?” Anders asked.

“Actually, it was quite a disturbing experience. Bethany went with me; she was curious to see what a brothel was like. If she hadn’t been there, I … I would probably be dead,” Hawke said.

“What? At the Blooming Rose?” Isabela asked. “They won’t do anything but spank me whenever I request the harder stuff.”

“One of them was a mage. Technically a blood mage. She … I don’t even know how she did it, but without uttering a spell or cutting herself or doing anything at all, she wormed her way into my mind. She made me give her information that I didn’t want to divulge, and before I realized what was happening, she was telling me to draw a dagger against my throat. If Bethany hadn’t been there to force her to break her hold over me, I would have done it,” Hawke said.

“You should have brought us along with you,” Fenris said clenching his fist.

“In hind sight, I wish I had. But it was the Blooming Rose. I thought others would be uncomfortable going there, and Bethany wanted to see what it was like, but she didn’t feel comfortable going in … mixed company as it were,” Hawke said.

“So, what did she think?” Isabela asked.

“Well, the blood mage and near death all aside - honestly, I think she was a little disappointed. I think it was tamer than she was expecting,” Hawke said.

“And you?” Isabela asked.

“Me? Oh, the Blooming Rose isn’t the first brothel that I’ve been to,” Hawke grinned.

“Oh?” Isabela smiled.

“It was tradition for the senior soldiers to take the newly graduated soldiers to the Pearl in Denerim. It was part celebration, part hazing, really,” Hawke explained.

“You didn’t have to go, did you?” Fenris asked.

“Technically you could choose not to, but we had all heard that the hazing alternative was much much worse. There were all sorts of rumors about the alternative, but I never found out what the alternative actually was,” Hawke said.

“So what did you do?” Varric asked.

“The senior soldiers had rented a room upstairs. It was one of the larger rooms, with a large round table. Mostly we just got really drunk and played Wicked Naked Grace. They did bring in a few female dancers. Eventually the senior soldiers all slunk off to satiate their own desires and it was just us new recruits left. What I remember of that night, we just continued to play until absolutely every single one of us was butt naked. By that time many had already passed out. More than a few were missing clothes when we woke up the next morning. They had to walk back to the barracks in their small clothes, to retrieve the rest of their clothes from the announcement board,” Hawke said.

“You know Hawke, you’ve always struck me as someone who’s played Wicked Naked Grace, as well as someone who might actually be good at it,” Isabela said. Hawke died with laughter.

“How in the world could you possibly guess whether one of us has ever played it or not? And good at it, haha, not particularly. I didn’t do terribly, but I wasn’t great either,” Hawke laughed.

“You’re not cheating enough then,” Isabela said.

“I’m no good at cheating,” Hawke said.

“You know, we should all play Wicked Naked Grace sometime,” Isabela said.

“Count me out,” Fenris said.

“Oh Fenris, _please_. I’m absolutely just _dying_ for a peek at your underpants,” Isabela winked.

“Get in line,” Fenris joked. Varric about fell out of his chair with laughter.

“I could be convinced,” Anders said.

“I’m out,” Hawke laughed. “I only did it when I was younger because I was eager for the approval of my superiors and my peers.”

“What if … it was just us ladies?” Isabela asked.

“Hm. I _might_ consider that,” Hawke said.

“Were you at least able to find anything out about the missing templar recruits?” Anders asked.

“Thankfully, yes. Once her hold over me was broken she answered all of my questions,” Hawke said.

“What did you do with her?” Fenris asked.

“Yes, what _did_ you do with her?” Isabela repeated.

“I … I killed her. She begged me for her life, and she fully cooperated and answered my questions. But she had just tried to kill me, and surely she would have done the same to Bethany in order to keep my death a secret. And she was a blood mage, involved in some sort of ring of blood mages who are abducting templars in an attempt to possess the templars and fill their ranks with demons,” Hawke said. The sudden sound of Fenris’ wine bottle breaking and shattering to the floor made Hawke jump.

“I hate it when mages resort to blood magic! All it does is reinforce the opinion that mages are too dangerous to be allowed to live freely,” Anders said.

“So what now?” Varric asked.

“She spoke of a place she called ‘Sanctuary,’ and the leader, a blood mage named Tarohne. The map indicates the hideout is in Darktown,” Hawke said.

“I want to go with you,” Anders said. “I will not let these blood mages get away with this.”

“I would have thought you would be happy to hear of their efforts, considering they are attempting to sow chaos in the ranks of the templars,” Fenris said.

“I do not use blood magic and I do not consort with demons,” Anders said.

“What does it matter if the end result is exactly what you’re looking for?” Fenris asked.

“Despite what you may think, I do have standards and morals. There are some lines that you just don’t cross,” Anders said.

“I would have thought that possession would have been one of them,” Fenris said.

“Yes, I know. But there’s nothing that can be done about that now,” Anders said.

“Oh get a room already, will you?” Isabela said.

“Shut your mouth!” Anders spat.

“Touchy touchy,” Isabela whispered.

“Calm down, everyone, please,” Hawke said.

“You heading to the hideout tomorrow then?” Varric asked.

“Yes, I was hoping to. The situation needs to be dealt with as soon as possible,” Hawke said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Fenris said.

“You’re not coming, are you?” Anders asked.

“You think I would let you go alone with Hawke, when blood magic and demons are involved?” Fenris asked.

“Oh I am definitely _not_ going now,” Isabela said, rolling her eyes at the two men.

“You don’t trust me around Hawke? Do you truly think I would ever do anything to endanger her?” Anders asked.

“She is in danger every time she is near you!” Fenris raised his voice.

“Enough already,” Hawke pleaded.

“I’m going with Hawke tomorrow, and that’s final,” Anders said.

“Fine,” Fenris said. “But it proves nothing.” Anders stormed out of the Hanged Man, and Fenris went to the bar to retrieve another bottle of wine.

“I thought those two would never stop,” Hawke said.

“You know, honestly, considering how much they hate each other, they usually do a pretty good job of keeping their tempers in check,” Varric said.

“As long as Hawke’s around, anyway,” Isabela said. “They bicker like cats and dogs otherwise.”

“Huh,” Varric said, realizing the comparison of cats and dogs was painfully accurate.

~

The next morning, Hawke led them to the location in Darktown that Idunna, the blood mage at the Blooming Rose, had indicated.

“Ugh, I can never get used to the smell down here,” Fenris said. “I don’t know how anyone can actually live down here.” It was an obvious jab at Anders, but Anders refused to the take the bait. It’s not like he was any happier to live in the sewers, but it was the only place he could operate safely away from templar prying eyes.

“This is it,” Hawke said.

“We should be careful. Who knows what manner of traps these blood mages have setup,” Anders said.

“Hmph,” Fenris rolled his eyes, as though they should be taking advice from _him_ of all people.

There were a number of traps, but luckily Varric was able to spot them and disable them in time. The demons and abominations though, those had to be dealt with in the traditional fashion.

“How many blood mages are there?” Hawke panted when they finished slaying the first way. “With this many demons and abominations, surely there must be over ten blood mages??”

“Actually, a single blood mage could have summoned the ones we just saw. But I agree that we’re likely dealing with more than one. I doubt we’re dealing with ten though,” Anders said.

There were a number of hallways and passageways that finally led to a large open space. They had to fight risen skeletons, demons, and more abominations the entire way. But once they reached the open space, they noticed something strange floating several feet in the air. There was a strange glow around him. It was as though the magic that swirled around him was frozen. Hawke had never seen anything like it. And the young man in the center was quiet, and seemed just as frozen as the magic encompassing him.

“How wonderful! More vessels for our experiments,” A woman hissed, presumably Tarohne. She and three others stepped forward out of a hidden corridor just beyond the floating man.

“Where is Keran?” Hawke demanded.

“Perhaps one of the demons will find one of you suitable,” Tarohne continued.

“Always with the demon thing. Can’t you people just say ‘no’?” Anders asked, exasperated.

“I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to a demon,” she snapped back. “I sought them out and embraced them!”

“Typical,” Fenris spat.

“You’re right. That’s much better,” Varric said.

“Why are you taking the recruits?” Hawke asked, losing her patience with the clearly deranged woman.

“Demons can inhabit much more than _mages_ and _corpses_. With assistance, they can control anyone I ask. Any templar … any noble … any well-meaning meddler,” Tarohne threatened.

“You do know that I cut a path through your abominations, right?” Hawke said.

“Good! Good! The demons like spirit. If a few more templars fall to the demons, we can seed chaos in their ranks. How many abominations can they discover amongst their own before it drives the knight-commander crazy?” She asked.

“She’s completely insane,” Bethany whispered.

“Yes. She’s barking mad. At least that makes things easier for us,” Hawke said.

“In days of old, the Tevinter Imperium spanned the known world. Demons were their allies - held in check by power and knowledge. With a wave of a hand I could do more than a templar can achieve in a lifetime! Yet they command us? Absurd! We should be ruling them! We should rule you all!” Tarohne raved.

“Kill the vessels only if you must,” she shrieked.

“What were you saying about how you’ve never met a mage that wants to rule over anything?” Hawke shouted over the fighting to Anders.

“Yes, I guess I can’t say that anymore. I should probably rephrase it to exclude insane blood mages,” Anders jested.

“She seems to be doing more to champion your cause than you are,” Fenris jabbed between swings.

“This is not the way,” Anders shouted back.

“No? Do you not preach about it being a life-or-death situation? Does the manner of death truly matter?” Fenris asked.

“Blood magic is evil,” Anders said.

“How about we just focus on killing these guys first,” Bethany suggested.

“Agreed,” Varric and Hawke said in unison.

Tarohne blasted Hawke backward. She soared through the air and slammed against the opposite wall. Hawke winced as she got to her feet, and gathered her breath after it had been knocked out of her. Varric was able to hold most of the abominations at bay, keeping them pinned down until Fenris was able to get to them. Bethany and Anders fired bolts in unison, fighting back to back to take out the demons. Tarohne cackled and flew across the room. Hawke charged at her and this time was the one knocking her to the ground. She smashed Tarohne in the face with the pommel of her sword, breaking the woman’s nose. It dazed her only for a moment before she erected a force field around her, protecting her. Hawke swings rebounded off the force field, jerking her arm as the sword was shoved in the opposite direction that she had directed it.

“Ahhh,” Varric shrieked as a demon had out flanked him, trapping him in the center of three demons. Hawke abandoned the fight with Tarohne and rushed to Varric’s aid. She brought her great sword down with a thundering blow, slamming the demon against the ground. It twitched from pain and Hawke slashed it in two. It melted to the floor and Varric retreated to safe position.

It was a difficult; they always were whenever blood mages and demons were involved. But eventually the last of them fell and Tarohne screamed and shrilled as Fenris reached into her chest and yanked out her heart. He crushed it and dropped it to the filthy sewer floor.

They took a moment to regain their breath, and Anders cast a regeneration spell over them.

“Is anyone hurt?” Anders panted.

“I think we’re all good?” Hawke said, surveying the team.

The magic around the floating man slowly began to dissipate and he fell to the ground.

“Is it, is it over?” He gasped out. He was shaky and weak. Anders helped him to his feet.

“Keran?” Hawke asked.

“Yes. That’s my name,” he coughed. “Oh thank the Maker. I thought he had abandoned me.”

“But, is it _only_ Keran,” Varric asked. “It could be Keran plus one. A very nasty plus one.”

“Any chance you can tell if Keran has an … extra passenger?” Hawke asked, looking at Anders.

“Well, there is one sure way,” Anders said. He stretched out his arm blasted Keran with a bolt of electricity.

“Aggh. What was that about?!” Keran cried out.

“If there was a demon in there, it would have defended itself. Looks like he’s clear,” Anders said.

“I’m sorry Keran, but the templars need to know about what happened here,” Hawke said.

“No, please. Please don’t tell them. I don’t know what they’d do to me. Please, I need to go back. Tell them that I’m alright, tell my sister … I-I must go,” he said, before running off. Well, hobbling off.

“When you talk to Ser Cullen, maybe down play the blood magic angle. We don’t need the templars cracking down even harder,” Anders said.

“No, we couldn’t have that,” Fenris said. “Maker forbid that they actually do their jobs and catch these maleficarum. No, better to force Hawke to take care of them.”

“Will you two just shut up already?” Hawke growled. Neither of them replied, but they at least respected Hawke’s wish and stopped bickering for the time being. Hawke dropped everyone off in Lowtown while she went to give the news to Ser Cullen.

“You sure you don’t want anyone to go with you?” Varric asked.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Hawke said. “I could really use the peace and quiet right now.”

“Alright,” Varric said. It was best to leave all of the apostates behind anyhow. None of them needed to be anywhere near the Gallows, the headquarters of the templars. But Hawke also didn’t want to listen to Fenris complain about mages or magic or Anders, and she wasn’t in the mood for Varric to try to distract her with any of his stories. She just wanted quiet.

“Ser Cullen,” Hawke said as she approached him in the Gallows square. Keran had just made it back himself, still a bit shaky and uneasy. He looked at her with pleading eyes. Cullen was grilling the recruit, trying not to make a scene in the open square, but Keran’s return was enough to gather attention.

“Blood mages have infiltrated your ranks,” Hawke said, careful not to speak too loudly. “They’ve been implanting your recruits with demons.”

“What?! Sweet blood of Andraste! After Wilmud I wondered, but I never thought …” Cullen said.

“The mages … they see us as ants to be crushed,” Keran said. “They won’t stop until they’ve destroyed the Chantry and the templars forever!”

“Not all mages are like that,” Hawke said.

“True, not every mage gives in to temptation, but none are ever free of it. At any time, any mage could become a monster, from the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters. Mages cannot be treated like people. They are not like you and me. They are weapons. They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique,” Cullen replied.

“Your fear and hatred dishonors you,” Hawke said angrily. “Mages _are_ people. Cullen, you and I understand better than most what it means to _be_ a weapon. If either one of us decided to, we could cut down a hundred innocent lives. That temptation, that possibility, exists within us every day. Mages simply possess a different kind of skill. And unlike you or I, their skills can be used for a variety of things, including healing. And this situation between the mages and the templars is a viscous cycle. There is fault on both sides, and if you continue to try to solve it with hatred and anger, you will only fan the flames instead of extinguishing the fire.”

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps the mages need better education as to why the Chantry functions as it does. Perhaps they would not go against the will of Andraste herself. I will look into it,” Cullen said. “However, for now Keran, unless it is proven that you are free of demons, I must strip you of your commission immediately.”

“Please ser. I tried to resist. I never took anything they offered me. I … I need this position, or my sister can’t eat. I’ve been training for five years,” Keran begged.

“We … conducted tests on Keran,” Hawke said, not sure how else to say it. “He’s not possessed. He can stay with the order.”

“You … you conducted tests? Just what exactly is it that you could possibly do to determine this?” Cullen asked.

“My father was a mage,” Hawke said, going out on a limb. “Though none of us are mages like him, he never stopped teaching us about magic. I simply employed the knowledge that he had passed on to me.”

“Hmm,” Cullen said, considering Hawke carefully. It was a known fact that the Amell daughter ran off with a Fereldan apostate, so he knew that Hawke wasn’t lying about that. “You have done much for the order, not only by dealing with these blood mages, but also by rescuing Keran. And you have been forthright about the events that took place. I will trust your word, for now. If Keran has shown no sign of demonic possession in ten years’ time, he will become eligible for full knighthood.”

Keran nearly started crying from relief and joy. Cullen motioned to some other templars stationed nearby, and they came and took Keran back to the barracks to get cleaned up and checked over for injuries.

“Here,” Cullen said. “This is the entire allowance for the month. We will not forget the service you have done here.” The coin purse he handed her had six gold sovereigns. She could hardly believe it. The others would be happy as well; it wasn’t very often that each received over 1 sovereign from a single job.

Hawke took her time strolling back to the Hanged Man. It was actually a nice evening, and the air was fresher today than usual. It was less … heavy and less muggy. She arrived at the tavern, but only found Fenris and Varric within. Varric made change for her, and she gave them each their 1.5 sovereigns from the job.

“Are we still going to the docks later for Athenril?” Varric asked.

“Yep. Are you still able to come along?” Hawke asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Varric replied.

“It will be a nice change of pace from dealing with _blood mages_ ,” Fenris brooded.

~

The days were starting to get warmer, as everyone in the city bemoaned. Hawke tried to complete as many jobs in the early morning as she could or in the evenings, to try to stay out of the heat. And though she was never a big fan of the docks, she did enjoy the cooler air and the nice breeze there. The sun was setting over the water as they descended the steps to the main thoroughfare in the docks. The cool breeze lightly lapped at their faces.

“Why are we taking another job from Athenril?” Bethany asked. “I thought we were done working for her.”

“We still need the gold Bethany, unless you’ve forgotten,” Hawke said. 

“How close are you now Hawke?” Varric asked.

“You mean to 50 sovereigns?” She replied.

“Yeah, you’ve got to have at least 30 sovereigns by now, right?” Varric estimated.

“Um, something around that,” Hawke said. “I haven’t counted in a while.” Varric chuckled and shook his head.

“Where did Athenril say we were to meet this boy Pryce?” Fenris asked.

“Hmm, just around the bend here I think,” Hawke said.

They turned the corner. The last of the sunlight was blocked by a building, already creating long shadows in the street. In the distance they could see four young boys standing nervously guard over some crates. A man approached, human not dwarven. The lead boy glanced around surveying the man and his group, and a moment later the boy was bolting away. The man charged after him, followed by many more men.

“That must be Pryce,” Hawke said. They wasted no time unsheathing their weapons and rushing to the boy’s aid.

“These aren’t carta,” Varric shouted over the fighting.

“How can you tell?” Bethany shouted back.

“Not a single dwarf among them,” Varric replied.

Hawke skewered a man who had cornered Pryce. He slumped to the ground, and Pryce cowered on the ground.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he cried.

“Athenril sent me,” Hawke said, turning to parry the blow of another man. “We’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

“If not the carta, then who?” Bethany shouted.

“I’m sure if you ask one of them nicely Sunshine, they’ll tell you,” Varric teased.

The last men fell to the ground, the street sufficiently drenched in blood.

“Thank you,” Pryce said standing up. “I thought those Coterie men had me for sure.”

“Ah, Coterie,” Varric said. “No problem, kid. It’s kind of what we do.”

“I guess the whole thing was a trap. There were dwarves when I went to make the trade, just Coterie waiting to killing to kill us. They got the rest of the boys,” Pryce said.

“So this was all about the Coterie’s rivalry with Athenril,” Hawke said with a sigh. “Pryce, aren’t you a bit young to be working for Athenril anyhow?”

“I’m fifteen, and I can usually pass for a man. My mama was ripped in two by one of them big horned darkspawn. It’s just me and my sisters now. Working for Athenril is the only way to feed my sisters,” he replied.

“He displays more responsibility than many grown men,” Fenris said.

“Why not take what Athenril gave you, and start fresh somewhere outside of Kirkwall?” Hawke suggested.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“There’s always work to be found on farms for a healthy young man,” Bethany said.

“My father was a farmer, before the darkspawn got him. I’d rather do that, than work for Athenril,” he said thinking it over. “I-I’ll get my sisters. Please make sure Athenril doesn’t come after us,” he said. He took the crate, and hurried out of the docks.

“Let’s go see Athenril and then grab some drinks.”

Back outside the Blooming Rose, Athenril was waiting and conducting business with her partners as usual.

“Well?” Athenril asked.

“I rescued your boy and killed the Coterie, but your goods were long gone,” Hawke lied.

“Coterie,” Athenril cursed. “I should have figured. They’ve got a lock on all trade with the dwarves.” She sighed. “Well Hawke, you know the drill: no cargo, no coin.”


	16. Royal Blood

It was a cold and rainy day. The hopelessly grey kind where the rain was light but unrelenting, and thick fogged rolled off the docks and flooded the lower lying areas of the city. Hawke was attempting to help Gamlen repair the leaky roof in the kitchen when a knock came at the door. Leandra answered it. A small boy, completely drenched and hair hanging in his eyes, shoved a letter into her hands and ran off.

Leandra carefully broke the seal of the sopping wet parchment. The ink ran a little, but the message was mostly still legible.

“Charlie, Aveline sent a missive. She says she needs to speak with you about … well, a few words are smudged out. She has asked to that you meet with her today,” Leandra said.

“I can meet her- Gamlen! Stop! No, wait-” Hawke said just before a terrible crash and thud boomed in the kitchen.

“I told you to wait,” Hawke said as she got up off the floor, rubbing her sore bottom. “I wasn’t ready.”

“It looked like you were finished,” he said, and mumbled an apology under his breath.

“Charlie, are you alright?” Leandra asked.

“Yeah, nothing but bruises. Just another minute and I’ll have this all patched up,” she said. “And I then I’ll head over to see Aveline.” Hawke was attempting to patch the third hole of the roof. It seemed like every time it rained, they discovered a new one.

Hawke dug out the family’s raincoat out of the old cedar chest. It was her father’s. It swallowed her. But it was made of Anderfel wool and nug wax to repel water, and lined with Fereldan fleece. It had been his father’s. It was one of the few belongings of his they still had. It was too big, but it did the job well. Hawke pulled the hood over her head, and entered the soggy Lowtown streets.

Hawke was sight to behold entering Aveline’s office. The bulky coat was tied around her waist tightly, and hung nearly to her ankle. The sleeves engulfed her hands. It made Hawke look impossibly small. Aveline didn’t even recognize her at first, dripping wet in her doorway.

“May I help-” Aveline started to say. “Maker, Hawke?”

“It’s my dad’s old coat,” Hawke said.

“It swallows you whole, but I suppose it doesn’t matter if it gets the job done,” Aveline said.

“What did you want to see me about?” Hawke asked.

“There is a state dinner coming up soon. Needless to say security is a top priority for such matters. Honestly, I probably would have asked for you help even if you hadn’t been personally requested,” Aveline said.

“I’ve been requested, for a state dinner?” Hawke said surprised.

“This isn’t just any state dinner either. The Prince and heir apparent of Starkhaven is hosting the dinner, and he is the one who requested your services. Apparently, you’ve impressed him,” Aveline said.

“Sebastian?” Hawke asked.

“That’s right. How do you know him?” Aveline asked.

“Some time ago he had posted a request on the Chantry board. There was a mercenary company who had murdered his family, and he believed they were likely still after him. The posted reward was a sizable chunk so I took the job. And he paid well just as promised,” Hawke said.

“That’s right. I remember you telling me about him now. Well, he’s personally requested you to help provide security at the dinner. That is however, not something that requires much discussion. Due to the nature of the event, and the nature of some of our … friends … well,” Aveline sighed. “Isabela cannot attend. Even if you are okay with it, I will not allow it. And given the high visibility of a state dinner, all apostates should sit this one out as well,” Aveline said.

“So that leaves Varric and Fenris,” Hawke said.

“A dwarf and an elf,” Aveline said. “I honestly don’t know how they will be received. There’s also the matter of the uniform. All security staff need to be easily recognized, so you and anyone else will temporarily be issued a guard’s formal uniform. I … I honestly don’t know if I have anything that will fit Varric. Fenris- I think we can piece together an acceptable uniform to fit him. But I will leave the decision up to you.”

“Are we actually expecting trouble?” Hawke asked.

“Sebastian has indicated that there may be assassins after him still. There is no way to be certain, and he’s not sure if anyone would be bold enough to make an attempt at a high profile event like a state dinner. It’s more likely that someone would try to poison his food or drink at such an event. But obviously a direct attack can’t be ruled out either. And trouble does seem to follow you wherever you go, Hawke,” Aveline said.

Hawke sighed heavily. “Yes, there’s that. I would feel much more comfortable to have Varric & Fenris there with me. But let me discuss it with them.”

“I need to know by tomorrow,” Aveline said.

“While I’m here,” Hawke said. “Were you ever able to find anything on ‘The Band of Three’?”

“I’ve found a few mentions of them, but nothing useful yet. There are some archived records that supposedly detailed an incident involving The Band of Three, but the records have gone missing. I have people working on locating the records, but it’s not a top priority. As it is, the records are nearly a century old. After all this time, I don’t know that we’ll be able to find them at all.”

“I was just wondering. It sounded worth looking into,” Hawke said.

“And I agree. I just don’t have much hope that we’ll find anything useful,” Aveline said.

Hawke wrapped the coat tight around her once more, pulled the hood over her head, and waved farewell to Aveline as she left. She had to descend the stone stairs carefully as they were now slick from all the rain. She had slipped a few times on her way in. The rain had picked up, turning the streets into puddles or even ponds. She was sure some of the Lowtown streets would soon be rivers. Luckily Fenris’ mansion was only a few blocks away.

Hawke pounded on Fenris’ door hard; she was eager to get out of the rain. Impatient, she knocked again, and Fenris opened the door immediately.

“May I help you?” He asked slowly, eying the strange, hooded figure at his door. Hawke reached out a hand and pushed the door open, and stepped in. She threw the hood back, and shook out her coat, tossing water everywhere.

“Hawke?” Fenris asked. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Aveline needed to talk to me,” Hawke said. “Which is why I’m here.” Hawke took off her coat and hung it over the edge of a tall, empty shelf in the foyer. She shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth.

“Here,” Fenris said. He removed the long sleeved, silk robe he was wearing and handed it to Hawke, leaving him in his plain trousers and loose, short sleeve tunic.

“One of Danarius’?” Hawke asked. “Won’t you be cold?”

“Actually,” Fenris said as they walked to his bedroom/living room/dining room. “I’ve discovered that this mansion is in fact _not_ Danarius’. It belongs to, or rather _belonged,_ to a Tevinter merchant. It’s possible that Danarius killed him. I know not. And no. Honestly, I wear it simply because it is well crafted and I’ve never owned fine robes before.”

Hawke pulled it on. It wasn’t particularly warm, but one more layer did enough to keep the cold at bay.

“I admit, this life … living here in Kirkwall … I find it strange,” Fenris said. They both sat down on the bench in front of the fire.

“You’ve never said how long you’ve been on the run,” Hawke said.

“Hm. A little over three years,” Fenris said. “He has never failed to find me. I’ve begun to wonder if he can track the markings somehow.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Hawke asked.

“He has returned to Minrathous, but I dare not go near the city while he is alive. It is better to wait for him to leave his fortress,” Fenris replied.

“Do you think he will still come after you? You’ve been here some time now, and yet he hasn’t pursued you,” Hawke said.

“Yes. It seems I have finally given him pause. And I admit that I too am surprised that he has not sent more hunters, but he will not give up so easily. He will eventually come to reclaim me,” Fenris said.

“How can you be so sure?” Hawke asked.

“His pride will demand nothing less. Dead or alive matters not to him, simply that I am reclaimed. Put back in my place,” Fenris said. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to burden you with this. What is it you came to speak to me about?”

“I don’t mind listening, Fenris. Really. We all need someone to talk to every once in a while,” Hawke said.

“That is a great deal why living here feels so … unnatural. Your kindness, your generosity. Your compassion. It is so foreign to me. I find it very … confusing, truth be told,” Fenris said.

“Confusing?” Hawke asked.

“Please, let us move on to something else,” Fenris said. “What is it that you wanted to discuss?”

“Do you remember Sebastian?” Hawke asked.

“The Prince of Starkhaven?” Fenris asked.

“Yes. He is hosting a state dinner here in Kirkwall, all very formal and high profile. Aveline needs help with security, and I guess Sebastian requested us by name,” Hawke said.

“You mean he requested _you_ by name,” Fenris corrected.

“Ah …, yes. Anyhow. You and Varric are the only … suitable ones to accompany me. But Aveline isn’t certain how a dwarf or elf ‘guard’ will be received, and she’s not entirely sure if she has any formal uniforms that would fit you or Varric well. She thinks she might be able to piece something together, but, well, I wanted to see how you felt about it,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, if you have need of my assistance than you know I shall be there,” Fenris said.

“I’m not really sure that any of us are truly _needed_ ,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, do you have need of my help? Or not?” Fenris asked, trying to figure out what Hawke was asking.

“Like I said, I don’t believe _any_ of us are actually needed. I doubt anything will happen. But … I would feel much more comfortable if you and Varric were there with me. I just wanted to leave the decision up to you,” Hawke said.

“If you want me there, Hawke, then you know I will be there,” Fenris replied. Hawke wanted him to decide based on what _he_ wanted, but she didn’t push it. She knew she wouldn’t get anywhere even if she tried.

“You still need to speak to Varric about this, yes?” Fenris asked.

“Yes. I came here straight from Aveline’s office,” Hawke said.

“Then why don’t we go to the Hanged Man together. Just give me a moment to get properly dressed,” Fenris suggested. Hawke slipped off the silk robe and laid it on the bench, and retreated to the foyer to wait for Fenris. There was now a large puddle below her still dripping rain coat. She shook it out some more, and put it back on.

~

“Knowing Aveline, what she ‘pieces together’ will somehow fit perfectly,” Varric said.

“No doubt,” Fenris agreed.

“Well, he’s certainly hired the best skilled security there is,” Varric said.

“Aveline doesn’t seem to think there is much threat, but … as she pointed out, I seem to attract trouble.” Hawke said. Varric and Fenris laughed.

“You really do Hawke,” Varric said. “You know, speaking of highly skilled … did your master actually train you, or did you hone your skills on your own?” Varric asked Fenris.

“You’re surprised that Danarius would give such training to a slave,” Fenris stated.

“I am,” Varric replied. “Doesn’t seem very wise.”

“To answer your question, yes, Danarius had me trained. Though I suspect that I had some amount of training even before I received these markings. I was his body guard after all. How could I protect him from his enemies, who would no doubt be other powerful magisters, if I lacked the training or the skill?” Fenris said. “I did not question my place or my status. It’s a hard concept to grasp, even for me looking back now. But it was what it was. However, despite everything I don’t think Danarius regrets it. He still believes that he can bring me under heel once more.”

Aveline had their measurement by the end of the week, and the formal uniforms were ready two days later, just in time for the dinner. The dinner was held at the Viscount’s home, a majestic mansion that sat atop a hill top at the very top of the Hightown district. The guards, Hawke, Varric, & Fenris arrived and were meticulously outfitted in the fine, formal uniform. It was hardened grey, Antivan leather armor instead of plate, given the nature of the event, with white silk tunics hung over top. Kirkwall’s red emblem was stitched in the center of each tunic, and the ends were hemmed with fine, red silk embroidery. Like the other woman with long hair, a hand maiden skillfully braided Hawke’s hair and tied it off with a thin piece of red ribbon. Aveline wore her hair up in a bun, which the hand maiden insisted required the red hair pin she held in her hand. Aveline finally gave in and allowed the woman the place it in her hair as she pleased.

Fenris & Varric’s uniforms indeed fit well. Aveline said they had just managed to make most of the necessary alterations, and she was still complaining about how they had run out of time for this or that. Honestly, you could hardly tell that their uniforms were any different than any other the others.

“Wow Hawke,” Varric said. “That uniform really suits you.”

“Indeed,” Fenris said, flushing a little.

“I keep saying you should join the guard,” Aveline said.

“So I should join the guard just for the formal uniform?” Hawke asked. “Which is worn only on rare occasions? And is incredibly uncomfortable?”

“Hm, it shouldn’t be uncomfortable,” Aveline said, examining Hawke’s uniform, tugging on various straps. “But I suppose you’re right. That would be a poor reason to join.”

As soon as they were all dressed, Aveline gathered them together and gave entire guard compliment a rundown on the situation for the evening, what dignitaries would be present, what activities to pay extra attention to, and so. She announced their posts, and dismissed them.

“Aveline, you didn’t mention where I would be,” Hawke said.

“I want you to stay as close to Sebastian as you can,” Aveline said.

“So … I’m to be his body guard?” Hawke asked.

“Yes,” Aveline confirmed. Hawke sighed heavily. This was going to prove to be a boring and tedious night, she thought. “He’s talking to the Viscount now. Guests should be arriving any minute now, so you should go re-introduce yourself and explain the plan for the night.”

“Okay, here it goes,” Hawke said.

“You could try to be a little grateful,” Aveline said. Hawke looked at her with a blank expression. “He’s an attractive, eligible young man. And a Prince too,” Aveline said. Hawke just sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Ah, Hawke,” Sebastian said as Hawke met him in the main hall, which was quite empty at the moment. It was hard to imagine that it could ever get crowded. It was such a large room. Hawke saw the line of buffet tables lining the back wall, and the delicious trays stacked on top. _That_ _’s_ where she wanted to the stand the whole night.

“I do appreciate you agreeing to help provide security tonight,” Sebastian said.

“It’s an honor, your grace,” Hawke replied reverently. Sebastian laughed.

“Please Hawke. Call me Sebastian, I implore you,” he said.

“Very well, Sebastian,” Hawke replied.

“I understand that Aveline has asked you to be my body guard for the night?” He asked.

“Yes,” Hawke replied. “I confess, I’ve never been a body guard before. I’m not really sure what to do. Particularly once the guests arrive and you’re busy speaking to so many people.”

“How about this? How about we simply spend the night conversing with one another, and the occasional guest? I confess that I am not looking forward to speaking to so many others. But alas, that is necessary if I am to convince any of them to help my country. I would gladly welcome your company though. I’m sure your company will be much more exciting than most of those who attend tonight anyhow,” Sebastian suggested.

“I think I can do that,” Hawke said nervously.

But Hawke didn’t receive much of a chance to say anything. Sebastian himself was quite the talker, and so were all of the guests who approached him. And none of the topics were remotely close to Hawke’s realm of knowledge, or care. She tried to concentrate on her job, go figure, watching out for anyone suspicious, but the dull conversation was having a lethargic effect on her. At last the Viscount announced that the first dance would begin, and Sebastian was swept off to the dance floor.

Hawke sighed with relief and tip-toed over to the buffet table.

“So, you and the Prince discuss anything interesting?” a voice came from behind the table. Hawke nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Varric?” Hawke asked. She had to lean over to see him standing behind the table. He finished gathering a small plate and came around the corner. “No,” Hawke sighed. “He has spent the entire evening discussing the Chantry and Andraste, and the significant importance of confession.”

“That bad huh?” Varric asked.

“What are you doing over here?” Hawke asked.

“Aveline put me on food duty,” Varric replied.

“Lucky,” Hawke said, snagging a few squares of cheese.

“You know, he’s a pretty handsome fellow. Do you know if he’s single?” Varric asked.

“I didn’t ask. Not that I’ve had much chance,” Hawke said.

“Not interested?” Varric laughed.

“He’s just … so clean?” Hawke said, trying to find the right word.

“Hawke, I didn’t realize you liked them _dirty_ ,” Varric laughed.

“Ha. Ha.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “He’s just so … neat … and tidy.”

“You know Hawke, if you liked scoundrels you should have said something sooner,” Varric winked. Hawke laughed.

The dance ended and the partners were bowing and saying adieu.

“Looks like I’ve got to get back to it,” Hawke said. She sighed heavily and washed down the cheese with a small glass of champagne. “Don’t tell Aveline.”

“My lips are sealed,” Varric said.

It was a rather uneventful night. Of course, that didn’t stop Aveline from getting all worked up. Hawke continued to listen to the boring conversations that Sebastian had with the other guests, and continually scanned the room for anyone and anything suspicious. She saw a few guards drinking when they thought no one was looking. She watched one woman get a bit friendly with Varric, which was pretty funny to watch. Over by the door she saw Fenris, standing tall in his formal uniform, hair combed back. He looked rather handsome actually. He was pulled away by a lady who was having some sort of hysterical meltdown.

“… I suppose one glass of champagne wouldn’t hurt,” Hawke heard Sebastian say. His conversation partners had all left. It was just Hawke and Sebastian for the moment. Hawke looked up at his glass and put her hand on his arm.

“Sebastian,” Hawke said, looking around. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, just from the lady who was serving …” he glanced around but she had disappeared back into the crowd. “Why?”

They were interrupted by a loud scream that came from exterior balcony. Hawke took the glass and dumped into a flower pot, as she and Sebastian made their way to the balcony, along with all the other guests.

Fenris was on the floor, propping himself up against the balcony railing, and clutching his side with one hand.

“The assassin,” he winced. “The woman who was having a meltdown earlier. She sent a drink to Sebastian and then pull me out of the room. I was trying to be polite as I could with her antics, but something wasn’t adding up. I confronted her about it, and she stabbed me and took off. She was incredibly quick.”

“We need to get a healer for you right now,” Aveline said.

“No, secure Sebastian,” Fenris said.

“I am secure,” Sebastian smiled.

“Hawke, get him out of here,” Aveline commanded.

“And take him where?” Hawke asked.

“Into the private study,” Seamus answered. Hawke and Sebastian followed.

“Where is the Viscount?” Aveline shouted. None of her guards knew.

“It would seem the champagne was poisoned after all,” Sebastian said once they were in the private study.

“Perhaps,” Hawke said distracted as she surveyed the room. “Is there only the one entrance?” she asked Seamus.

“Yes,” he replied. “And those doors are folded steel. Nothing can get in.”

It was another hour or so before the commotion calmed down. The Viscount was located. He had been in the kitchen engaged in a very heated debate with a Fereldan dignitary discussing the recent problems with mage circles. But other than being drunk and upsetting the cooks for eating food before it was even served to the guests, he was no worse for the wear. All the other guests were slowly accounted for, and Fenris was the only one injured or harmed in any way.

“Hawke,” Aveline said through the door. “It’s clear, you can come out now.”

“Thank God,” Hawke whispered. Seamus and Sebastian followed, still completely engulfed in a heated argument of their own regarding Andraste and the Chantry and how it all related to the Qunari. “I have never heard so much about Andraste before in my whole life,” Hawke whispered.

Aveline had Sebastian escorted back to his family estate, and gave it a thorough sweep through before she departed. She left a double guard at his place for the night, and increased the patrols in Hightown.

“Come on Elf,” Varric said. “Let’s take you to see Blondie.”

“I am _not_ going to see that _mage_ ,” Fenris said. “I will be fine.”

“Fenris,” Aveline said. “You’ve already lost a lot of blood. You need a healer. Letting Anders heal will not kill you. In fact, it is probably the only that will keep you from dying.”

“Come on kid, he’s not that bad,” Varric said.

“I’ll buy drinks at the Hanged Man afterward, for the rest of the night,” Hawke offered.

“Fine.” Fenris begrudgingly agreed.

Unfortunately, they never located the assassin. But it was at least obvious now that whoever had sent men after his family, they were still after Sebastian.


	17. The Bone Pit

Hawke was getting close to the 50 sovereigns. It wouldn’t be long at all until they were ready to venture into the Deep Roads. And the girls were getting restless. They were tired of taking on a number of low paying, or non-paying jobs. Hawke was trying to focus her efforts on jobs with higher rewards, and was intrigued when she heard about a mine called the Bone Pit. She was interested for two reasons: the missing miners were Fereldan refugees just like herself, and the promised reward was significant.

“I think I might tag along with you on this one,” Aveline said. “I’d like to see the conditions these miners are working in. And I’d like to help fellow refugees if I can.”

“Great!” Hawke said. “Merrill is going to come along this time as well. She needs some air, non-city air.”

“It would be good for her to get out of the alienage,” Aveline said. “Though something called ‘The Bone Pit’ might not be an improvement.”

“It’s virtually all hands-on deck,” Hawke said. “Isabela is the only one sitting this one out.”

“Good. We’ll be ready for whatever danger we find then,” Aveline said.

The road to the Bone Pit was more wooded than Hawke expected. Large pine trees and elfroot lined the grey gravel road.

“This reminds me a lot of Lothering,” Bethany said.

“I agree. It’s nice,” Aveline said.

“If only it didn’t involve so much hiking,” Varric panted.

It took them a couple of hours to hike up the road. The overcast sky provided the necessary relief from the hot sun, though the clouds also threatened rain which they would all prefer to avoid.

The mining camp near the summit was deserted, except for the few looters they found. They swiftly dealt with the looters before they carefully examined the camp. There were few trees or vegetation here. Everything was grey - the stony mountain face, the gravel, even the sky. The camp itself was sparse. It wasn’t meant for overnight stays, merely to provide shade for breaks. The camp fire was cold. A pot was overturned and laying on the ground. Days old burnt stew was now caked to the sides. Papers were blown all over the camp. Sweet little Merrill began collecting them and placed them in a neat pile top of one of the tables, and placed a large rock on top. For the most part it looked like what anyone would expect of a recently deserted mine - except for the eerie pillars made of skulls that stood overlooking a large basin below. Though clearly silent and deserted, the entire place gave off the strong feeling that they weren’t alone, outnumbered even.

“You know … this might not be the nicest part of Kirkwall,” Merrill said charitably.

“Anyone else getting an uneasy feeling about this place?” Varric asked.

“Many slaves died here. Their cries linger in the stone,” Fenris said.

“I could have gone without hearing that,” Aveline said.

“I don’t see any signs of the missing miners, or a struggle,” Anders said.

“Looks like we’ll have to go further in to find anything,” Hawke said.

“I’m beginning to regret volunteering for this,” Aveline said.

They cautiously entered the mine, unsure whether to expect abominations, demons, risen skeletons, or giant spiders - or who knows what else, given the truly unearthly feeling hanging in the air.

There wasn’t much time to worry about it. Immediately after the entered the mine, they encountered a number of dragonlings.

“Dragons?!” Aveline shouted. “Here?”

“Aw, they’re so cute,” Merrill said. “Well, at least when they’re not trying to bite us.”

“There are so many of them,” Bethany said.

“I kind of wish we didn’t have to kill them,” Fenris said.

“I feel the same way,” Hawke said. “But they’re too close to the city. If they continue to nest here, it won’t be long until they’re attacking caravans and travelers, and possibly the city itself.”

“I wonder where they all came from,” Anders said. “The number and age suggests that they’ve been nesting here for some time, but the miners only recently started to go missing.”

“The miners probably broke through a cavern wall and uncovered their nest,” Aveline said.

It was a long afternoon. The mine was deep and crawling with dragonlings. They collected as much dragon’s blood and scales as they could, but they didn’t have the best tools with them for the job. It was over two hours before they discovered any miners, alive that is.

“Oh thank the Maker!” One of the men exclaimed. “I thought we were done for!”

It was just as Aveline had said - they had been digging in a new part of the mine and broke through a wall. It didn’t take long for the dragonlings to pour through. Hawke told them to run to the exit, and they would continue clearing out of the rest of the mine.

“I think that last one was number fourteen,” Merrill said.

“Number fifteen, Daisy,” Varric corrected.

“Oh, really?” Merrill tried to recount all of them in her head.

“Looks like this is the last tunnel,” Hawke said, panting and taking a rest. Aveline handed her the water skin. “How are you holding up Bethany?” Hawke asked.

“I’m fine. You three are doing all the heavy lifting,” she replied.

The last tunnel turned out to be much shorter than they anticipated, which was a relief only until they discovered what was waiting at the end. The tunnel opened up to a small platform area that overlooked the basin below. A mature dragon, presumably mama dragon or maybe it was papa dragon, stood there as though it had been anticipating them for a while.

“Shit,” Varric said. It was already too late. It had clearly seen them. There was no turning back, besides turning around meant going back through a cramped tunnel - and the dragon could cook them all with one deep breath. They quickly spread out, surrounding the dragon.

Varric’s arrows only had an effect in approximately two places on the dragon and he, or she, wasn’t particularly keen on giving him a good shot. Likewise, a number of magic spells had no effect on it. It’s scales deflected most of them. Blunt force seemed the most effective, but even then the dragon scales provided ridiculous armor.

“It’s like this thing is wearing double thick plate armor,” Aveline shouted as she dodged another swing of the dragon’s tail. “I feel like all we’ve done is make it royally mad.”

It didn’t help that the sand beneath their feet was soft and easily shifted. Aveline lost her balance and fell to the sand. She immediately rolled to the other side, bringing her shield up to protect her. The dragon snapped at her and when it couldn’t get past her shield, it stomped on the shield with great force. Aveline cried out in pain.

Fenris reached through the dragon’s back leg and pulled out some muscle and bits of flesh. It screamed out and whipped its body around to face him. Its tail swept Hawke off her feet and threw her against the mountain side. Hawke slumped to the floor wheezing, desperately trying to regain her breath. While Fenris held the dragon’s attention, Anders rushed over to Aveline and pulled her out of range of the dragon’s back feet.

“I think my arm is broken,” Aveline said, wincing as Anders pulled her arm free of the shield strap.

“Hey, over here you big dragon,” Bethany shouted.

“Bethany, … don’t taunt the … dragon,” Hawke wheezed, finally taking several deep breaths. Fenris was struggling with the dragon on his own. It slashed his left bicep, and he just barely dodged a blow to the head.

Hawke gathered all her strength and charged at the dragon, roaring loudly. She leapt high into the air and caught her sword deep in its side. It thrashed around, nearly crushing Fenris and Varric. Hawke hung from the hilt of her sword, barely managing to hold on. After a few minutes the dragon had all but finished wildly thrashing, and Hawke pulled herself up. She swung herself onto the back of the dragon and nearly slipped off the other side. The scales were much slicker than she had anticipated. She removed the dagger from boot and stabbed it deep in the neck on the dragon. Again it thrashed about, and this time Hawke wasn’t able to hold on. Hawke fell off the over side of the dragon, and almost went tumbling over the edge of the sandy platform. Merrill caught Hawke’s arm, and with Varric’s help pulled her back up.

“Anders, I’m good for now. The others need your help,” Aveline said.

It was a grueling fight, one that was won slowly, a single stab, a single blow, and single chunk at a time. Eventually it fell to its side, howling and shrieking. Now that it was on it’s side, Hawke was able to retrieve her sword. She yanked it free and with a great swing and brought the blade down through the dragon’s neck. It wasn’t enough to remove the head, but it was enough to cause the dragon to bleed out.

The sky rumbled in the distance, and they could see lightning through the grey clouds.

“I swear if it rains on our way back,” Aveline said. Anders wrapped her arm and placed it in a simple sling, and then helped her to her feet.

“Everyone ready to head back?” Hawke panted.

“Is anyone else injured?” Anders asked.

“I think Fenris has a big slash-” Merrill started to say.

“I’m fine,” Fenris said curtly.

“Bethany? Merrill? Hawke?” Anders asked.

“I can wait til we get back for any healing,” Hawke said. “Let’s head out before it starts to rain.”

The team hobbled through the mine tunnels; up the multiple stairs, over the precarious platforms, through the narrow archways, and finally through the entrance door. But the rumbling in the sky was only growing closer and the clouds were getting considerably darker. Varric quickly grabbed one of the overturned tents, rolled it up, and tucked it away in his pack.

“Good thinking,” Bethany said.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need it,” he replied.

They didn’t even get half way down the gravel road before it started pouring. They tried to take shelter under the trees, but it did very little to shield them from the rain.

“There!” Bethany shouted over the pounding rain. There was a gentle path that led farther into the wood, which opened into a small clearing.

“Help me out Blondie,” Varric said. Together they quickly pitched the tent. Fenris disappeared into the wood to retrieve something to sit on, and came back carrying a medium log over his shoulder. It wasn’t long enough for all of them. Varric tethered a rope around another log nearby, and they dragged it under the cover of the tent. There was barely enough room for all them. They had to sit shoulder touching shoulder, dripping wet.

The rain pounded on the tent, and a small river soon ran down through the center of it. They shivered in the cold, fingers now prunes and hair stuck to their faces.

“Charlie,” Bethany shivered, pointing out the front end of the tent. “Does that remind you-”

“Yeah, it does,” Hawke smiled. Bethany was pointing at a wood totem. It looked old, and possibly made of iron bark. There were four different animals carved in to the totem, from the looks of it. But the images were obscured by distance and the pouring rain.

“What’s it remind you of?” Aveline shivered.

“We had a similar totem on our property in Lothering,” Hawke explained. The wooded area now felt even more like home.

Anders took the time to tend everyone’s bruises and wounds. Having no way to escape, Fenris grudgingly allowed Anders to heal him. Merrill and Bethany worked on warming up the tent.

“Ooo, that’s so pretty Merrill,” Bethany said in awe. Seven plum sized, warm glowing orbs floated inside the tent.

“Thank you,” Merrill smiled. “It’s a simple spell. I could teach you sometime.”

It was another hour before the rain let up enough for them to continue their trek back to the city. Everyone was eager to get home, so they said good night instead of heading to the Hanged Man like usual.

“Charlie,” Bethany said once they were home and changing into dry clothes. “I was thinking. Maybe we could go back to that place. Try to recreate it, you know? Since the anniversary of father’s death is coming up. I was thinking that mother might appreciate it.”

“I would really like that,” Hawke said. “But that doesn’t give us a lot of time. Only a few days, I think? We need to find better seats. Dig out a fire pit.”

“Find something we can use to create an altar,” Bethany said.

“It would be great if we could find some carved animal statuettes,” Hawke said.

“I know where we can find some,” Bethany said. “Could I borrow a few sovereigns tomorrow?”

“Sure. I think mother has paint left over from Satinalia,” Hawke said.

“I’ll go first thing in the morning to get the statuettes. Can you gather supplies here, and we can head back up around noon?” Bethany asked.

“It’s going to be wet still,” Hawke said. “Muddy even.”

“I’m not afraid of a little mud,” Bethany smiled.

“Alright,” Hawke said.

First thing in the morning, Hawke informed Hebert of the status of the mine and the missing miners. To her surprise, he gave her a bonus for dealing with dragons, _and_ he gave her a 50/50 stake in the mine. After talking with him, Hawke rushed home and packed a number of supplies, along with food for their lunch. Bethany returned early with the statuettes, and the girls rushed out the door.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you wear trousers,” Hawke said. “Well, at least without one of your nice, long tunics over it.”

“Yeah, it feels strange,” Bethany laughed.

They hiked back up the gravel, muddy road. The woods all looked the same and the rain had long washed away their foot prints. It took them half an hour before they finally found the spot. They did a quick sweep of the area before Hawke rushed back to the mining camp to grab a shovel and some rope.

Hawke spent a good deal of the day digging out the fire pit and placing stones around the rim. Bethany managed to find a mostly flat large stone to use as the alter. Together they carried it over, and propped it up on two other stones. Bethany painted the statuettes, and placed them out on the alter to dry.

“You know,” Bethany said, taking a break and staring up at the totem. “I think the top one is a bird. A crow or even a hawk maybe.”

“A hawk would be too coincidental,” Hawke said.

“Or fate,” Bethany smiled.

“I doubt it,” Hawke laughed.

“The bottom three all look like wolves. But, I think they all have … three eyes? It’s so old it’s hard to tell,” Bethany said.

Hawke split the logs they sat on the previous day with her sword, and together they carried them over and placed the four halves around the large fire pit.

“Hmm, we need a grill,” Bethany said.

“And some path markers, so we can find this place again,” Hawke said.

“I can take care of the path markers,” Bethany said.

“I’ll go see if there’s a grill we can borrow from the mining camp,” Hawke said. She took back the shovel and rope. Meanwhile, Bethany put her artist’s skills to work painting a simple design on the two pine trees guarding the path.

Hawke returned the with grill, and together they inspected their work.

“I really miss him,” Bethany said.

“I do too,” Hawke said, resting her head on Bethany’s shoulder.

“We should see if Varric has a lute. Or if he knows someone who does,” Bethany suggested.

“You know, I wonder if any of the others can sing,” Hawke pondered. They munched on their lunch as they slowly walked back to the city.

“You think Anders has a good singing voice?” Bethany asked.

“Haha,” Hawke laughed through her stuffed mouth. “Of course you would think about him first.” Bethany blushed.

“We kissed, you know,” Bethany said softly.

“What?!” Hawke said, almost choking.

“You remember the last night of the Satinalia?” Bethany asked.

“Heh, I try pretty hard to forget that night,” Hawke said.

“Yeah, well, while apparently you were making out with everyone else …. Anders and I …” Bethany said. She grabbed her left arm and starred at the ground.

“How come you didn’t say anything sooner?” Hawke asked.

“We’ve never talked about it,” Bethany confessed. “I don’t think he remembers.”

“Hmmm,” Hawke said.

“And … I think he has feelings for you anyway,” Bethany said.

“Huh? No, Bethany,” Hawke said.

“He doesn’t look at me the way he looks at you,” Bethany said.

“Bethany, we’re just friends,” Hawke said.

“You say that, but … that night when I found you both at the docks …” Bethany said.

“Bethany,” Hawke said, starting to get exasperated. “We spent that night talking about Ostagar and Carver, and his time in the circle. That’s it. You’re the one he spends most of his time with. _You_ _’re_ the one he kissed. In fact, I think he’s the _only_ person I didn’t kiss that night.”

“I don’t know,” Bethany said.

“Maybe this is your chance to kiss him again,” Hawke encouraged.

“What?! You mean …?” Bethany asked.

“Yeah. Everyone will surely be drunk again. There will be music and singing. It’s perfect,” Hawke said.

“And mother will be there!” Bethany said.

“Technically mother was there last time too,” Hawke replied.

“I forgot about that,” Bethany said.

“Or at least maybe just flirt with him, just more obviously? Or maybe actually _talk_ to him about how you feel?” Hawke said.

“I don’t know,” Bethany said. “Let’s just focus on finding a lute and someone who can sing.”

“You know, I bet Isabela can sing,” Hawke said.

Hawke and Bethany spent the next day gathering the necessary baking supplies, booze, and trying to track down a lute.

“Varric,” Hawke said in an attempt at a sultry voice.

“Yes Hawke,” Varric replied in a true sultry voice.

“Do you know how to play a lute?” She asked.

“Haha, so because I tell stories you know think I’m a bard?” Varric asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Hawke said. “It seems to me that you’re talented at just about everything.” She winked.

“Oh my dear Hawke, flattery will get you everywhere,” he laughed, then sighed. “It turns out, that even though I am _not_ a bard, I do in fact know how to play the lute a little. May I ask what the occasion is?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise party, for everyone. That’s the most I’m going to say,” Hawke smiled.

“Alright. Well, when is this little shin-dig going down?” Varric asked.

“Tomorrow evening,” Hawke replied.

“Hmm. I think I can clear my schedule,” Varric said. His curiosity was clearly piqued, and Hawke found it tremendously amusing, but no amount of flattery on Varric’s part could convince her to reveal her secrets.

“But I can promise that there will be as much alcohol as one can carry,” Hawke grinned.

Everyone was notified of the event, and likewise were given very few details. Hawke impressed upon them that it was a very important occasion, particularly for their mother, which had the intended effect of making sure that everyone felt too guilty to say no, even though there were only two who might have said no. Bethany finished fitting Lady with a pack full of the food and utensils. Gamlen was given a pack to carry, which held a few more parcels of food and a number of jugs of alcohol.

“Fenris,” Hawke asked when we met the group at their home in Lowtown. “Would you mind carrying this pack? I don’t think any of the others could carry it.”

“What’s in it?” He asked as he put it on.

“Booze,” Hawke whispered.

“That’s a lot of booze,” he said.

“Oh, everyone is getting sloshed tonight,” Hawke grinned. “You’ll understand when we get there.”

Hawke was also carrying a similarly heavy pack, and unfortunately Aveline’s arm still hadn’t completely healed, so she was only able to carry a small pack. Bethany carried as much as she could, though it was probably more than she should have been carrying. Anders insisted on carrying a pack as heavy Fenris’. There was a whole argument over it, which ended with Isabela commanding them to go ahead and “whip them out and get the measuring over with already.”

At last they were ready. With the time it would take for them hike back to the totem, they expected to get there just before dusk.

“Hawke, you purposefully left out the fact that there would extensive walking,” Isabela complained.

“Indeed,” Hawke admitted.

“Dear, is it much farther?” Leandra asked. She was in the dark as much as the others, and she didn’t have the energy to walk much longer. Thankfully they soon arrived at the path, marked by the painted trees.

“Is this the same place as the other night?” Aveline asked. “Why on earth would we come back here?”

“Merrill,” Bethany asked. “Can you place some more of those robs around?” Bethany led Merrill into the clearing, while Hawke instructed the others to wait.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Bethany said a minute later. Hawke led the way, with Leandra at her side.

“Ohhhh,” Leandra cried softly when she stepped into the clearing and saw the fire lit, the glowing orbs softly floating through the air, and at the other end - the totem and the alter, with the painted statuettes. “You remembered,” Leandra said through her tears. The others looked at each other, confused by Leandra’s reaction.

“Is … that an alter?” Anders asked, now extremely confused.

“Everyone, please take a seat,” Bethany said.

“We’ll explain everything,” Hawke said, as she unpacked the food parcels and set them out near the grill.

“Are those …?” Leandra asked Bethany. Bethany smiled and nodded, and Leandra cried even harder.

“Will someone explain what’s going on?” Isabela asked.

“When the children were little,” Leandra said, trying to compose herself. “They had a pet rabbit. He died and Bethany was absolutely beside herself. We had a totem on our property, and Malcolm the rabbit lying on a alter by the totem, with Bethany trying to raise it from the dead, ,” she laughed.

“I was very new to my magic, and still knew very little. I had no idea how one might raise it from the dead, or that it would be dangerous. But I had seen similar alters in some of the Chasind villages,” Bethany said.

“Bethany was crying. Praying to Andraste, and waving her hands over the rabbit trying to revive him,” Leandra continued. “Malcolm explained that it was dead and it wasn’t coming back, and tried to explain the dangers of trying to bring it back, but Bethany had completely melted into ugly sobs when he said that it was dead and never coming back. She said it had to. She couldn’t accept that it was gone forever. So Malcolm helped Bethany create their own funeral rite for the rabbit. It became a family tradition after. Later, when Carver had a hound that got attacked by a giant spider, and he had to put it down, we did the family ritual. A number of pets were buried there. For each one, Malcolm carved a small statue and Bethany painted them, and we left them on the makeshift altar. And when Malcolm died …” Leandra broke down into tears once more, and couldn’t finish.

“We did the same thing when he died,” Hawke said. “Today is the anniversary,” Hawke said, feeling her throat get tighter. “He died five years ago.” She choked out.

“You didn’t have a funeral for him at the Chantry?” Aveline asked.

“We did,” Bethany said. “But we had our own too, just the four us.”

“I can’t believe he allowed you to perform a heathen magic ritual,” Gamlen said, surprised.

“It’s a completely made up ritual,” Hawke explained. “No magic involved. Just a silly song that Bethany and father made up together. But it’s followed by eating our favorite foods around the camp fire, and well, now that we’re adults, drinking heavily.”

_Rest now, be at Peace._

_Your pain now, let it cease._

_Hurry on, cross the veil._

_Hurry on, follow the trail._

_In the fade, we'll meet again._

_Goodbye, Malcolm, until then._

“And goodbye Carver,” Leandra cried.

Everyone sat in silence for a little while as Hawke and Gamlen started passing out the booze. Hawke handed Fenris a bottle of wine and Isabela a bottle of rum, the latter of which slapped her on the ass as a thanks.

“To Carver,” Bethany said once everyone had their drinks.

“To Wesley,” Aveline said.

“To mother and father,” Gamlen said.

“To Malcolm,” Leandra said.

“To Peyton,” Hawke whispered.

“To Karl,” Anders said.

“To all the others we’ve lost,” Aveline added.

“And now, that is the last of the crying,” Leandra said, pulling herself together. “Malcolm always said he wanted us to celebrate the life we had together, not waste it away crying. So. That’s enough of that. Bethany, where is the skillet?”

“I think it was in the pack Fenris was carrying up,” Bethany replied.

Varric pulled out his lute and it wasn’t long at all before the group was singing and laughing, and making dinner around the fire. Isabela and Aveline were toasting sugar pillows over a flame in Anders’ hands, and Bethany and Merrill were performing some simple magic tricks. Fenris brooded and glowered in his seat at all the blatant magic.

“Haha, don’t worry,” Hawke said, already drunk. “I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need any protection,” Fenris replied shortly.

“Nope, you don’t,” Hawke agreed, smiling sweetly. “But I’ll protect you all the same.” He laughed softly.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Fenris smiled.

“But not as drunk as I plan on being,” Hawke declared.

“You know Hawke, you would make a great pirate,” Isabela said walking over. She sat down in Hawke’s lap and and her a long, sexy hot kiss. Hawke broke free and melted into a fit of giggles, and everyone else laughed. As Hawke had expected, Isabela could indeed sing. All pirates have to be able to sing, she explained. Soon the group was howling at the top of their lungs, singing along with Isabela long into the night. For better or worse, I suspect better for most of those present, Hawke did in fact _not_ kiss anyone other than that single kiss from Isabela.

Thankfully the ground had dried out, and the sky was clear. They fell asleep under the stars, only a few hours before the sun came out.

“Hawke, thank you for inviting us,” Aveline said the next morning. “I’m honored to share this with your family. And I think I needed this for me too.”

“Likewise,” Anders said.

They had a good breakfast and shared stories around the fire before they packed everything up, and hiked back to Kirkwall.


	18. Chateau Haine

A few days after the anniversary of Malcolm’s death, Varric received an interesting note from one of his various contacts. It was one that Varric hadn’t heard from in some time: a dwarf named Edge. They had known each other for many years, and Varric had even attended his daughter’s naming ceremony. But the message was a bit shorter than what he usually received from Edge. He would explain more in person, two nights from now, in the Hightown market.

“And of course there’s no one here,” Hawke said as the group cautiously entered the Hightown market that night. The moon gleamed brightly off the light grey stone walls and stone market floor.

“All I know is that it has something to do with you and nobles. Edge is usually very reliable,” Varric said.

“Reliable at leading us into an ambush, you mean,” Aveline said.

“Why? It’s not always an ambush,” Varric said. Moments later, numerous assassins poured into the market and surrounded them. “Alright, maybe sometimes it’s an ambush.”

“ _And there she is. Today you die, pretty one_ ,” the leader of the group said in a distinctive Antivan accent.

“Oh, phew. For a moment I thought he was talking about me,” Hawke joked.

“Hmph,” the man retorted, but a dagger came soaring through the air and plummeted into his heart before he could say anything more. A red headed elf jumped out of the shadows, cartwheeling through the air performing a series of beautiful acrobatic jumps and twists. She took out four of the attackers before they could lay a finger on anyone.

“What are you waiting for?” She shouted at Hawke. “An invitation?”

“It seemed like this was your party,” Hawke shouted back, slashing two of the armed assailants with a wide arc of her great sword. “I didn’t want to be rude.” Hawke yanked one of the elven woman’s daggers out of one dead man and stabbed another assailant in the face with it. He fell backwards as another raced at Hawke. Aveline blocked with her shield and pressed him back across the square, delivering blow and after, until he fell.

When the last of the assailants fell, gurgling in his own blood, the red headed elven woman retrieved the last of her daggers, and approached Hawke.

“Sloppy. You’d think the Crows would be better at this. They’ve been doing it for ages,” she said.

“That was quite a dramatic entrance,” Hawke said. “You have some fine moves. And the Crows, were they a gift from you?”

“Oh, I didn’t arrange this,” the woman said. “But it’s no coincidence that I’m here. My name is Tallis,” she said with a curtsy, “and I’ve been looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” Hawke asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Looking for the woman who has an invitation to Chateau Haine, to be specific,” Tallis said.

“Ohhhh, that’s what Edge was on about,” Varric said. “Don’t you remember? You said your mother had received some letter from an Orlesian duke?”

“I still don’t see what this about. And the invitation was for Lord and Lady Amell, nobility, which we no longer are. And I’m not even an Amell,” Hawke said.

“The duke is Duke Prosper de Montfort, member of the Orlesian aristocracy, and a man who hosts a fine salon - or so I hear,” Tallis said.

“And what does this duke have to do with you?” Hawke asked.

“I need to relieve the Duke of something he has no right to possess, and … I can’t do it alone,” Tallis said.

“ Well stealing from Orlesians is never _wrong_ , or at least that’s what you Fereldans have always told me,” Varric said.

“This isn’t how I was planning on asking you this. I was picturing an introduction with … less blood,” Tallis said.

“What makes you think I steal things, just because people ask me to?” Hawke said.

“I may have uh, talked you up a bit,” Varric said. “Maybe more than once.”

“Varric,” Hawke sighed.

“I could just tell everyone how you slaughtered your way through half of Kirkwall,” Varric said.

“I think I might actually prefer that,” Hawke glared.

“All I’ve heard is that you get things done, and I’m hoping that’s true,” Tallis said.

“Sounds more like you’ve been talking to Athenril,” Hawke said. “Well, Orlesian parties _do_ sound like fun.”

“Oh that’s right,” Tallis said. “You’re Fereldan.”

“But _first_ , I need to know more about what to expect at this party, _and_ what about it is that you want to steal,” Hawke said.

“I’m out Hawke,” Aveline said. “It’s best if I don’t hear any more than what I’ve already heard.” Aveline waved, and headed back up the market stairs and disappeared around the corner.

“Ah, what we’re stealing is a … jewel. The duke thinks it’s valuable, and it is, just not in the way he believes,” Tallis said. “It’s not even his. He shouldn’t have it in the first place. The party takes place in just a couple of days, which will barely give us enough time to get to Chateau Haine. We will likely be late as it is, but I think we’ll manage to arrive fashionably late, so no harm done. But this means we’ll need to leave tomorrow morning. Do what you need to get prepared tonight, and I’ll meet you here at daybreak tomorrow,” Tallis said.

“Is there anything I need to bring? I’m not very well versed in parties, let alone Orlesian parties. In fact, the only so-called parties I think I’ve been to were soldier graduation parties, back in the army,” Hawke said. “I assume that I will need something to wear, that doesn’t involve heavy armor or great swords?”

“The party begins with a Wyvern hunt, so you will definitely want your heavy armor. But you’re right, after the hunt there will be a grand party where you will definitely need something else to wear. Bring something nice to wear and we can worry about the rest later. And remember, the invitation is for 4 people only, including servants. You and I take up two of those slots, so you’ll have to decide who to bring for the other two. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning,” Tallis said. “And please, don’t be late.” With that, Tallis hurried out of the square and down the stairs to Lowtown, lost in the shadows the moment she entered them.

“I suppose we need to search these guys, before we leave,” Hawke sighed. “We still don’t know why the crows were after me.”

“I think I found something,” Bethany said. “It’s a note.”

_Renzo,_

_Someone has to clean up what_ _’s left of Edge. The squirrelly little dwarf made a mess when we questioned him, but we got what we needed._

_Hawke will be in the Hightown market tonight. Be sure to deliver the Cavril family_ _’s best regards._

“Damnit,” Varric said. “I’ll have to let Edge’s family know.”

“Cavril family?” Fenris asked.

“I’m just as stumped as you are. Mother might recognize the name though,” Hawke said. “Fenris, Varric - are you two interested in going with me to Chateau Haine?”

“Are you sure you want to take me?” Varric asked. “Not Bethany, Anders, or Isabela?”

“Isabela would try to steal anything that isn’t nailed now, and probably end up robbing everyone at the party. I’m trying to keep the theft to a minimum. Bethany, no. I don’t want to involve her in an Orlesian theft, and I particularly don’t want her near any wyverns,” Hawke said.

“What? Seriously? You’re not going to let me go?” Bethany asked.

“And Anders - we probably shouldn’t give the authorities any new reasons to come after him,” Hawke said.

“I’m in,” Fenris said.

“Very well,” Varric said. “I’m in it for the story.” He winked.

“Well _I_ _’m_ in it for the glory,” Hawke said, and winked back.

~

“The jewel we’re after is the called the Heart of Many. Here’s the problem: the Heart is in a vault, behind who knows what kind of traps, protected by a private army of Orlesian chevaliers, all inside a fortress that was designed to be impregnable, and let’s not forget it’s on the side of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by monsters,” Tallis explained the next morning as they set out.

“Too bad that’s all,” Hawke said. “I was really hoping for an exciting and adventurous challenge, something to really break up the routine of _slaughtering_ _half of Kirkwall_ ,” Hawke said.

The journey to Chateau Haine was actually very lovely. Tallis had arranged for a comfortable coach to take them most of the way, and the road was lined with beautiful forests. It was early summer, so the trees and flowers were already in full bloom. The further they went, the steeper the road inclined, and the greater the difference in temperature was. It was crisp and refreshing, a stark difference to the humid, salty, and usually fish fouled air of Kirkwall.

Just as Tallis said, they arrived on time - just perfectly, fashionably, late.

“The man with the red plume feather in his helmet, that is Duke Prosper,” Tallis pointed out as they approached the chateau and the other gathered hunting parties.

“Andraste’s tears, Prosper! When is this going to get started?” A man asked.

“Presently,” the duke replied in the typical Orlesian accent. “All right everyone,” he shouted, gathering them together. “You all know the tradition, yes? The first to find and slay a wyvern wins the honors of the evening! And bragging rights, of course. Good luck to you all.”

“I am here by invitation,” Hawke said to the guard who greeted their group. “Would you kindly inform your master that I have arrived?”

“Ah, mistress Hawke. Let them pass, they are here as my guests,” Duke Prosper instructed. “And who is this lovely specimen?” The duke asked, speaking of Tallis.

“You flatter me, your grace,” Tallis curtsied.

“And I see you brought a man servant or two, already armed and armored. Wonderful!” The Duke continued.

“These are not man servants, your grace,” Hawke said. “These two fine gentlemen are part of my … company.”

“Ah, but of course. Please do excuse my confusion. We so rarely see elves and dwarves here, unless they are employed as servants or assassins,” the Duke said. “You know, I must say, your presence is a surprise. The Amells were friends of my mother’s, but we haven’t seen your family at a hunt for ages.”

“It’s a favorite past time of mine, to find things and kill them, actually,” Hawke said, looking directly at Varric.

“She’s never going to let me live that down,” Varric whispered to Fenris.

“Not likely,” Fenris agreed.

“Really? Oh that’s wonderful,” the Duke smiled. “Then you will fit right in. At any rate, I won’t keep you from the hunt. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind the others.”

“The other hunters will need the head start,” Hawke smiled.

“Ahaha, confidence. I love it!” The Duke laughed. “Well then, good luck to you, my lady. Remember, fortune favors the bold.”

The carriage driver handed their luggage to one of the castle servants, who whisked them away to their guest rooms. Hawke and the others finished fastening their armor, and strapped their day pack to Lady’s back, and followed the other groups down the trail to the wyvern hunt.

“Forgive my boldness, but you don’t seem like a hunter,” a man said just before the descended the trail.

“Oh?” Hawke asked.

“Strong perhaps, but a wyvern hunter, no,” he continued. “I mean no disrespect,” he quickly recovered. “I only wish to warn you about the venom.”

“The venom?” Hawke asked.

“Yes, it is the deadliest thing about them,” he continued, “as well as the most valuable.”

“There must be a trick to hunting them then, I would imagine,” Hawke replied.

“Flanking them would be most advisable, to be sure that you avoid their poison,” he said.

“And what if you don’t manage to avoid their poison?” Varric asked.

“There is an antidote, but it must be taken quickly,” he said.

“… and would you happen to know how to make such an antidote?” Tallis asked.

“I would.” The man quickly scribbled some notes on a scrap of paper and handed it to Hawke. “Though I pray that you do not need it.” They thanked the man, and carried on their way.

The hunting grounds covered a considerably large area. Hawke was surprised and impressed. And the beauty around them made it hard to remember that they were hunting a dangerous cousin to the dragon.

“Hunting, for sport. Is it wrong of me to cheer for the wyverns?” Fenris asked.

It was still morning and with any luck they would have a wyvern’s head before the afternoon. They passed a number of hunting parties who seemed more interested in standing around gossiping with each other, than actually pursuing any prey. Several of the other parties even had a few Fereldan mabari.

“You know, everyone likes to call Fereldans ‘dog lords,’ but they’re all eager enough to raise their own mabari,” Hawke said. Lady barked in reply. “Yes, you’re much better than any of these dogs, aren’t you?” Hawke scratched behind Lady’s ears, and she wagged her tail happily.

“So I take it we just need to run around randomly shouting, ‘Here wyvern, wyvern, wyvern?’” Varric asked.

“We just need to look for signs, and be careful. We get this over with, and we get in to the keep,” Tallis said.

Signs? Well, they found dragonlings, and puddles of blood, a regurgitated carcass, and wyvern droppings. They also found a creepy old shrine that Hawke felt compelled to touch. In return the creepy shrine let loose a number of reanimated corpses and one truly nasty revenant. But they did discover some interesting treasure after the undead guards were killed, so perhaps the detour was worth it.

“So … much … walking,” Varric complained.

“It’s not even noon-” Tallis began to say, but the blood curdling screams of men interrupted her. The screams came from a clearing just ahead on the trail. The group hurried to the clearing, but were already too late. A dozen or more strange little creatures scurried throughout the clearing, pouring out of small mountain side tunnels.

“Ghasts!” Tallis shouted.

“What did you say?” Varric asked.

“Shoot now, talk later,” Hawke instructed.

They were horrible little creatures. Grey-green skin, and hunched, thin skeletal frames. They had long, pointy teeth and sharp nails at the ends of their long fingers. What made them truly terrible was the fact that they were intelligent beings, sentient. Not that they were going to be winning any scholarly awards, but they understood basic strategy, weapon making, and certainly how to wield a great variety of weapons, though nothing too sophisticated. Sharpened rocks and sharpened sticks mostly, but a few had dart guns, presumably using the wyvern poison that they could easily find in the area. And a small number even carried mage staffs. Their size and stature made they agile and quick, and hard to pin down. Hawke and the others dealt with the dozen ghasts, and scoured the bodies of the fallen men.

“We should take their crests back to the Duke,” Tallis suggested.

“Oh Blessed Andraste,” a half-naked man said, startling them all. He carefully tiptoed out of the trees where he had been hiding. “Oh, I got so lost and was forced to spend the night out here.”

“I … don’t even want to ask,” Hawke said. The man simply bowed in thanks, and hurried back up the trail to the keep.

“Orlesians,” Tallis shrugged.

“So tell me Tallis. Just how long has this wyvern hunt been going on?” Hawke asked as they continue back the way they had come.

“It’s an annual tradition the Montforts began to keep the wyvern population down. They breed quickly,” she replied.

“Elves too,” Fenris said. “We’re plucky that way.” Varric chuckled and shook his head.

“Well, there’s no annual Elf hunt. Yet, anyway,” Tallis said.

“For all that’s holy, why would you even suggest such a thing?!” Hawke asked.

“I …” Tallis said, but never finished. They continued in silence through the mountain trails soaking in the beautiful scenery all around them. They walked on only a little further when a foul smell hit them as though they had just walked nose first into a stone wall.

“Oh, what is that?” Hawke said, trying to cover her nose.

“Wyvern droppings, it would seem,” Tallis said, pinching her nose. “Fresh this time.”

“There’s more over there,” Fenris pointed.

They followed the trail until they came to a dead end, literally. It was a small clearing and the path was littered with bones both big and small.

“If we were going to lure it, this would be the best spot,” Tallis said. “They already love it here, clearly.”

They laid out the bait they had collected, and Tallis splattered herself with some of the blood they had found (don’t ask), and did a strange frolic-nug call mix. In a matter of minutes, a wyvern bounded down the mountain and barreled out of the trees.

They had fought dragonlings before, earlier that day even. And even the mature dragon at the Bone Pit. But the wyvern was more like an extremely large lizard than a dragon. Its legs were short, and it’s body hung low to the ground. Its head was round and had razor fins that lined each side of it’s faced. It moved with considerable speed, a great deal more than dragons. It lowered its head and charged, throwing them back several feet. It thrashed, and spit. No one had said that the wyvern actually _spit_ venom. Hawke just assumed that its teeth were laced with the venom, or injected the venom the way snakes and spiders do. And the best strategy was to _flank_ it? Try as they might, the wyvern was having none it that. It thrashed and spun around, charged, and slammed its tail down on its opponents. The entire clearing was nearly soaked in venom before the fight was through. It was Fenris who delivered the final blow, bringing his blade down on its neck, severing its head completely.

They carefully regrouped, and took several minutes to rest on some venom free boulders nearby, downing a few restoration potions each. It was just passing noon, and they had a long hike back to the keep. Hawke cautiously retrieved the head, and dragged it along behind her in a thin sack.

“It’s a lot heavier than I expected,” Hawke said as they made their way back.

“Hawke!” Duke Prosper shouted, spotting them in the grounds. “What’s this? You’ve slain a wyvern? Marvelous!” He signaled to trumpeter accompanying him, and he gave his trumpet a long blow, signaling to the rest of the hunting parties that a wyvern had been killed – thus ending bringing the hunt to an end.

“Cahir, will you please assist Lady Hawke here?” Duke Prosper asked. Cahir took the wyvern head from Hawke, and followed the bloody trail back to the clearing, to retrieve the rest of the body. “Now, let us return to the keep, shall we?”

The group was happy to return. The guest rooms were well prepared for them: dainty chocolates were laid out in beautifully chiseled glass bowls, and warm baths were drawn for them all, with a different bathing perfume scents for the men and the women. Their evening clothes were pressed and hanging delicately in the room.

“Oh this is heaven,” Hawke said, slipping into the warm, rose scented bath water.

“Hawke, where’s your dress?” Tallis asked, looking around their room.

“It was hanging up next to yours,” Hawke shouted through the bathroom door.

“Surely you don’t mean _this_?” Tallis asked, barging into the bathroom.

“Yes, that’s it,” Hawke replied.

“Ohhhh no, Hawke,” Tallis shook her head.

“What’s wrong with that?” Hawke asked.

“It’s … and it’s …” Tallis said. “No. You just wait here. I’ll go find something more, suitable.”

“I don’t know what’s so wrong with it,” Hawke sulked to herself. “It’s purple even. Not grey or black. Or brown. I never wear purple.”

Tallis returned surprisingly quickly. “Okay, I think this will do. It’s right about your size. This ribbon is no good, but we can replace that with the one from your … suit, here,” Tallis said.

Hawke finished bathing and quickly toweled herself dry, eager to see what monstrosity Tallis had _borrowed_ for her to wear. Tallis insisted that Hawke keep her eyes closed until Tallis had it completely fastened up.

“Tada,” Tallis said, readjusting the fancy, full length looking glass in their room.

“Oh my,” Hawke said, staring at herself. “How on earth am I supposed to move around in this?”

“Ah see, that’s the thing,” Tallis pulled some of the fabric aside to reveal that what Hawke was actually wearing, were large flowing pants, that only looked like a skirt.

“I didn’t even know they made pants like this,” Hawke said. “I think I could actually enjoy wearing something like this, even though it is a bit more … frilly … than I typically enjoy.” She was even agreeable to the color: a lighter navy blue with a gold belt and gold accents.

“The style matches my outfit as well, which is perfect,” Tallis said. The neckline of both their tunics was straight and hung off the shoulders, one aspect that Hawke wasn’t particularly fond of. The waist was fitted, and the tunic tails hung softly over the top of the pants. And they each wore black silk slippers. But Tallis’ attire was different color than Hawke’s; her was teal-green with a red belt and red accents.

Tallis helped Hawke put her hair up in a simple but acceptable braided bun, with a few wisps hanging here and there.

“It’s the fashion, trust me,” Tallis said, when Hawke kept trying to tuck the wisps back in.

“I wonder what the guys are wearing,” Hawke said. “You know, I didn’t even think about the fact that Fenris might not even own anything formal.”

“Well, we’re about to find out. We’ve taken way too much time getting ready as it is. They’ll cut us some slack since we did just slay the wyvern, but any longer and the crowd will turn sour against us,” she said. She finished expertly tucking some daggers into her garters, scanned the room once more, and shut the door behind them.

“Hawke,” Varric said, meeting them in the hall. His jaw nearly fell to the floor at the sight of her.

“Varric!” Hawke stood stunned. His hair was glistening, she was sure of it. Did that mean that he rarely washed it? Or maybe they had left some kind of Orlesian hair oil in the men’s bedroom for them? Whatever it was, he was looking very handsome indeed. His tunic was a deeper shade of red than his every day wear. Burgundy, to be precise. He left his leather jacket in his room, so the gold embroidery around the hem and sleeve cuffs were visible. As always, he had the front of his tunic unlaced, revealing his luscious chest hair. His belt was a finely crafted, dwarven, gold linked belt.

Fenris was also quite stunning. She wasn’t sure where he got them, but he was a wearing a very dashing black formal coat with a single gold bar clasp in the lower front. The design was meant to be open down the front, in order to reveal the tunic underneath, which was a brilliant silk white tunic with gold embroidered around the collar. His black silk trousers matched the coat perfectly, and he was wearing boots! He was actually wearing shoes, which he was evidently having a hard time getting used to. He kept shaking his feet lightly or tapping them against the ground. His hair was freshly washed and though not glistening like Varric’s, it was combed and silky.

“I’m impressed that you actually own something like that,” Varric said.

“Ah,” Hawke said looking at Tallis.

“’Borrowed’ would be a more accurate term,” Tallis said. “Now come on, we need to get to the party.”

The guest rooms were all located in the guest house – a very large and impressive building itself, but alas not attached to the keep at all. You had to cross a number of gardens before reaching the main castle garden, where the party was being held, which was then where one could access and enter the keep itself.

“We need to get the key from one of the guards,” Tallis said. “But we also need to mingle long enough so as not to arouse suspicion at our absence.”

“Could there be a better way in, than through the garden?” Fenris asked. “Seems a bit risky to try to break in here, where there are so many guests and servants, and passersby.”

“If you can find a better entrance, I would love it,” Tallis said.

“We’ll scope out the rest of the keep then,” Varric said. “While you two chat up the Orlesians and look for the key.”

There was Duke Prosper, his wife, and his son that they of course had to pay their respects to. Then there was Lady Elegant, a very welcomed surprise. She was a fellow Kirkwaller and had helped Hawke with potions in the past, particularly when Hawke still under the employ of Athenril. Among the other guests was Seneschal Brann and his elven companion, which Hawke was quite surprised to see; and there was also Bann Teagan from Redcliffe in Fereldan. She heard he played a significant role in helping the Hero of Fereldan gather an army to face the Blight. Both he and his older brother, Arl Eamon. She had never met him, but she was certainly aware of who he was. Even one of Tallis’ friends was there; a red headed woman by the name of Leliana.

“Alright, I think we’ve mingled enough. You’re small enough fish, no offense, that I don’t think anyone will miss you from here on out. At least not for a while,” Tallis said. “I got the key from the guard. Now we just have to make it over to that courtyard without raising suspicion, and sneak through the door. We should try to move as quietly as possible, and with as little force as possible.”

“Agreed,” Hawke said. “I would prefer that we got this done with, _without_ the Duke knowing that someone relieved him of his jewel.”

“Indeed,” Tallis agreed. “Now, I know that sneaking around isn’t typically your style. So: stick the shadows, and use these small stones to distract the guards.”

“Small stones?” Hawke accepted the small pouch and looked at Tallis with a very confused expression.

“Yes. You throw them, causing the guard to turn their attention elsewhere so that we can sneak by. And when that doesn’t work, well then you can resort to your typical style and knock them over the head,” Tallis said.

Hawke took a deep breath, carefully tucked the pouch of stones into her belt, and followed Tallis into the small courtyard.

“Shouldn’t we signal to Varric and Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“How? We don’t even know where they are. We need to get in and get this done, or we might lose our chance completely,” Tallis said. Hawke looked around one last time, hoping to spot Varric or Fenris, but they were nowhere in sight. She nodded and Tallis unlocked the door and they tiptoed in, shutting the door behind them without making a sound.


	19. Blood of a Duke

The hallway was narrow and empty. The lantern light bounced off light grey stone walls and the rich tapestries that were draped over the walls.

“I think this leads to the kitchen,” Tallis said. “But we need to find the vault.”

“I’m following you,” Hawke said. They moved together, quickly and silently, staying in the shadows when they could. They ducked past the open kitchen, and almost ran right into a guard. All three were caught off guard, but Hawke was quick and swiftly knocked him over the head. Tallis caught him before he hit the floor - that is before armor could clatter over the stone floor, and alert anyone nearby.

“That was close,” Tallis sighed.

“Wait …” Hawke said, noticing the title of a book sitting on the end table. She stepped over the guard and picked it up. “Hard in Hightown: Two? Varric hasn’t written a second one yet. We were just talking about it the other day.”

“Hawke, come on, we don’t have time,” Tallis said, keeping an eye on the walkway above them. Hawke tucked the small book into a small rucksack, and threw the pack over her shoulder. “Really?” Tallis asked.

“You want to steal a jewel, and you’re judging me for stealing a book that is a knock-off?” Hawke asked.

“Point taken,” Tallis said. “I’ve got the key for that door,” she pointed. “But we’re going to have to move through it quickly.” Hawke nodded, and they moved forward again and up a small flight of stairs to the locked door, and then swiftly through to the other side. The door opened to a large exterior battlement that overlooked the main garden below. The sun was beginning to set, and many of the guests had already retired to the ballroom inside.

There was only one guard on the battlement, but there was only one place to hide: just behind the hedge by the door they just came through. But if someone else came through the door behind them, they would be caught. And yet they also couldn’t get close enough to the guard to knock him out, not without him seeing them first and raising the alarm.

“What are we going do?” Hawke asked, praying no one else came in behind them. The door on the other side opened and a small servant girl stepped through.

“Please, come this way sir,” a servant girl said the guard.

“What is it now?” He groaned.

“It’s Babette,” they heard the girl say just before the door closed behind them.

“Phew,” Tallis sighed.

The door led back inside. The next set of passage ways were like a maze, one they had to take their time with. The guards walked the halls in a even steady pace, routinely pausing in certain areas. They managed to get passed, but the next door was locked.

“Shit, we need a key,” Tallis said.

“You can’t pick the lock?” Hawke asked. Tallis held up her lock-picking set, completely bent.

“I tried,” she said.

“Which means one of those guards has it, right?” Hawke asked.

“I really hope so,” Tallis said.

They found a spot behind a curtain where they could stand hidden from view, and observed the the guards for several minutes in order to determine which one of them most likely had the key. They found one with a set of keys hanging from his belt, and with some time, managed to follow him into an isolated corridor, and knock him out. With the keys in hand, they once again wove their way through the remaining guards, pausing and ducking out of sight multiple times, until they finally had a clear shot at the door.

The hallways continued to force out onto exterior balconies and battlements, and wound through the interior like a snake.

“I knew this was once a fortress, but even I didn’t expect the design to be so …” Tallis said.

“Formidable?” Hawke asked.

“I was going to say thorough,” Tallis replied. “This pattern, the way the halls curve and continuously force you outside is designed to make it nearly impossible for someone to storm it, or for someone to sneak in and rob the castle.”

“We’re not doing bad so far,” Hawke said.

“Shhh! Why would you say that?! Do you want to jinx us? Also, we’ve had to rely on luck a lot. Too much. Way too much,” Tallis said.

They were stopped and forced to duck into a small side room, to wait for a whole troop of guards to march through one of the hallways. It was a small library, or maybe a large study. The largest table in the room was piled with books and leafs of parchment. Some of the books were open, like someone was in the middle of of some research. The guards in the hall stopped just outside the door, and stood at attention in a perfect pair of lines. Their commander stood in front barking questions at the new recruits.

“Ugh, this is taking too long,” Tallis whispered, peering through a crack in the door.

“Why does the Duke have something like this?” Hawke asked, peering at one of the open books and scrawled notes on the table.

“What is it?” Tallis asked, joining Hawke at the table.

“By the depiction in this book, I would say this a Fog Warrior’s amulet. It looks like someone is researching Fog Warriors?” Hawke asked.

“That is odd,” Tallis said. “But I’m more surprised that you’ve heard of Fog Warriors.”

“I don’t know much,” Hawke said. “Only what Fenris has told me.”

“Fenris?” Tallis asked.

“He lived with them for a time. I think right after he escaped? He hasn’t told me much about his escape or his life with them,” Hawke replied.

“I … didn’t expect that. Interesting,” Tallis said.

They heard the guards marching away, and Tallis peeked through the door. “The coast is clear,” she whispered.

Hawke pocketed the amulet and a handful of the notes, and followed Tallis down the next corridor.

“Maker above, how much father is it?” Hawke asked.

“Yeah, this is taking much longer than I had anticipated. But I think we’re getting close,” Tallis replied.

They crossed through the final exterior passage, and were at last at the vault; 5 knocked out guards and a dozen thrown stones later. Unfortunately, the entrance paving stones were built with a trigger mechanism. You couldn’t physically enter the room without triggering the mechanism which lowered iron gates behind you. Well, if you were able to fly or transform into a bird you could get through without triggering the mechanism, but the number of people who could accomplish that is exceptionally small.

“Don’t panic,” Tallis instructed. “I knew this was here. There’s simply no other way to enter the vault without triggering that gate. However, there is another switch hidden in here somewhere that will open the door to vault, and then down to our planned escape route.”

“Alright …” Hawke said, not feeling very confident that Tallis had left this part out. “Let’s look for the switch.”

As with any good design it was not a simple switch. More specifically, it wasn’t a single switch. Or even two. It was a whole series of switches that had to be pressed, pulled, or levered in the correct order.

“Tallis, we could be here all night at this rate,” Hawke said, sitting down on one of the steps in the room. “There are too many possible patterns.”

“We already know the first four, we only need to figure out the last four. And we don’t have any other choice. If we just sit here and wait, we’ll be caught for sure and I don’t think using the excuse that we just got lost … right outside the vault door … is going to cut it,” Tallis said.

“I know, I know,” Hawke said. She sighed heavily and got back up.

“Here, try pushing this statue over onto this floor switch,” Tallis said.

It took another twenty minutes, but they finally succeeded in solving the pattern of switches. The gate in front of the vault lifted. Tallis opened the door and they stepped through. But Tallis stopped and looked around cautiously.

“Is something wrong?” Hawke asked.

“Don’t fret my dear,” a voice said behind them, followed by the sound of many armored footsteps and few panting mabari. Hawke and Tallis spun around, unsheathing their carefully hidden daggers. The Duke stood behind them, accompanied by Cahir his Chasind body guard, and a number of foot soldiers.

“It’s not over yet,” Tallis replied.

“Oh but it _is_ over. I knew who you were the moment you arrived, _assassin_ ,” The Duke said.

“Assassin? I knew something was off, but …” Hawke said.

“You did?” Tallis asked.

“Clever girl,” the Duke said. “Have you also deduced that your elven friend is Qunari?”

“Qunari?!” Hawke said, surprised.

“Ah, so she didn’t tell you,” the Duke smiled.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure Tallis has her reasons,” Hawke replied.

“My my, she certainly chose you well,” the Duke said.

“It’s … I can tell you about it later,” Tallis said. “Look. I came to stop the Heart from doing something we will all regret. She didn’t. Leave her out of this.”

“And waste all the effort I spent luring you here before the Heart’s arrival? Don’t be foolish,” the Duke replied.

“Asay hassatra maas,” Tallis said in Qunari.

“Maas avastrasa kulun,” the Duke equally replied in Qunari. “Take them away.”

They were bound and dragged to the dungeons. The gate slammed down. The guard locked it, and returned to his post around the corner and down the corridor. They sat in silence for many minutes before Tallis spoke.

“I have a question,” she said softly. “When the Duke told you what I was, you said you didn’t care. Was that true?”

“I was putting up a united front in defense against our enemy. Nothing more,” Hawke said coldly.

They were both silent again.

“You lied to me!” Hawke finally spat out.

“At least the Duke didn’t have us killed. That’s got to mean something, right?” Tallis smiled innocently.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Hawke asked.

“Maybe?” Tallis sighed. “Just trying to cheer you up.”

“You know what _would_ cheer me up?” Hawke said. “The truth.”

“I am sorry,” Tallis apologized. “This didn’t work out like I had planned … obviously.”

“What _was_ your plan, exactly?” Hawke asked.

“The one I expected to find is named Salit, a member of the Ben-Hassrath … the Heart of the Many. I was told he’s here to sell secrets to the Orlesians and I came to stop him. I … I supposed I was misinformed,” Tallis explained.

“I don’t understand … _you_ _’re_ Qunari?” Hawke asked.

“You don’t need horns to embrace the Qun,” Tallis replied. “All you need is a purpose. A belief in unity, in improving the lot not only for your own people but for everyone.”

“Yes. Subjugating your people is certainly an improvement,” Hawke said.

“You’re joking, but you’re also right. It doesn’t mean it’s a solution for everyone. Being a Qunari doesn’t automatically mean you’re a zealot. Most Qunari don’t even understand humans, why you act like you do. But I grew up among you. I understand perfectly well,” Tallis said.

“What does this have to with humans? And aren’t you here to kill someone for the Qunari?” Hawke asked.

“I never said I was killing him _for_ the Qunari,” Tallis replied.

“So … you’re improving his lot? Perhaps repeatedly?” Hawke jested.

“I know it’s hard to understand. Our way of thinking must seem so alien. But just tell me, can you honestly say there’s nothing to improve, nothing to strive for? We believe in striving together. We may stumble, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Tallis said.

“Yes, obviously that should be the goal of all races and all nations. But you’ve lost me on how subjugating everyone and labeling those who don’t agree as Tal-Vashoth, improves anything? How can it be an improvement if it’s forced? It’s like trying to say you’re going to help everyone love each other, and then you force them to do so. They might comply, but you can’t actually force someone to love someone else,” Hawke said.

“I joined the Ben-Hassrath because I felt like it meant something. M-means something,” Tallis said.

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Hawke said.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to anyone about this,” Tallis said.

“So … your mission. You came here to … stop Salit from betraying the Qunari? Is that it?” Hawke asked.

“You probably won’t’ believe me, but this isn’t a political mission - it’s personal,” Tallis explained.

“Oh?” Hawke said.

“Salit was my bessrathari - the one who recruited me into the Ben-Hassrath. My mentor. He’s the one who saw my potential, who convinced me that I could make a difference. It doesn’t matter now,” Tallis sighed.

“But you said he was selling secrets?” Hawke said.

“He is, or at least he intends to. One last act of defiance. I can’t let him do that. Not when he’ll hurt so many others in the process,” Tallis said.

“Other Qunari,” Hawke said.

“Not every Qunari is a soldier you know. There are tens of thousands of farmers, artisans, craftsmen … People who have never hurt anyone. People whose only crime is living. They don’t deserve what he’s going to do to them,” Tallis said.

“So did you really involve me just because I had an invitation?” Hawke asked.

“You were the only one on the invitation list who wasn’t a personal friend of the Montfort family,” Tallis explained. “You’re also Fereldan with no reason to love Orlais. And incredibly competent, so I hear.”

“What was going to happen when all this was over?” Hawke asked.

“We would go our separate ways?” Tallis suggested.

“And I wouldn’t notice a thing?” Hawke asked.

“Well, you’re … not exactly what I was expecting. Maybe if I’d done my homework, I would have known more about you. Given you the respect you deserve,” Tallis said.

Hawke sighed. “Do you at least have a plan that will get us out of this?” she asked.

“I always have a plan,” Tallis said.

“A good one?” Hawke asked.

“Ouch,” Tallis said. “The first business is getting out of here before His Grace decides we would taste good in the soup … or whatever he plans to do with us.”

“Fenris and Varric should find us, sooner rather than later, I hope,” Hawke said.

They sat in awkward silence for several minutes before Tallis spoke again.

“You know Hawke,” Tallis said as they waited for Fenris and Varric to rescue them. “I’ve been wondering this whole time how you got that scar on your nose?”

“Ha!” Hawke laughed. “It’s funny you should ask, actually. I’m sure you’re aware, but there are a number of Qunari occupying a compound in Kirkwall. And there have been a number of Tal-Vashoth who fled to the Wounded Coast. We were looting one of their camps after dispatching them, and … I found a jar of vitaar. I didn’t know at the time that it was poisonous, and I wiped a stripe of it across my face.”

“You’re lucky just to be alive!” Tallis said. “Wow.”

“It’s such a shame that only Qunari can wear it,” Hawke sighed with disappointment.

“Actually … you can make it without the poisonous ingredients. I mean, it won’t give you the hardened armor skin, but if you were just looking for great red face paint …” Tallis said. “I can give you a recipe for vitaar. Just, don’t add the wyvern venom or dragon blood or death root to it.”

They conversed for another hour about their lives, little things, both careful not to give too much personal information to the other. Meanwhile, Fenris and Varric had been searching for Hawke and Tallis. They had eventually found another way in, thanks to the distraction of moving the guests to the ballroom. But it wasn’t long after when they heard servants whispering about the wyvern slayer who was caught inside the vault, and thrown into the dungeon. They had to backtrack quite a way, and then capture and interrogate a guard to figure out how to get to the dungeons. Even the dungeon was a series of mazes.

“And … here we are again. … For the fourth time,” Fenris said, looking around at the empty cells.

“Fifth, isn’t it?” Varric asked. “Maybe we should play Diamondback and wait for Hawke to find us?”

“Ha ha. Very funny dwarf,” Fenris said.

A loud metal scraping sound echoed down the hall, followed by the dull thud of a gate hitting the ceiling. They jumped into one of the open cells and pressed themselves to the wall, hiding out of view.

“… I’m tired of waiting to be rescued,” they heard a woman’s voice say.

“I think that’s Tallis,” Varric whispered. They followed the sound and saw Hawke and Tallis stepping out of their cell.

“Why didn’t you just do that before?” Hawke asked, annoyed.

“You said your friends were coming,” Tallis smiled.

“Hawke,” Varric said as they ran toward the women.

“There you are. Were you hurt? What happened?” Fenris asked.

“No, actually,” Hawke said. “I was expecting rather harsher hospitality.”

“He was probably saving that for after he’s done dealing with Salit,” Tallis explained.

“Let’s not wait around for that,” Varric said.

“Agreed,” Hawke replied. She was very, very ready to be rid of the place.

“We found these in the chest near the dungeon entrance,” Fenris said. It was a small sack full of daggers, a few pieces of jewelry (Tallis’), a book, an amulet, a few notes, and some other odds and ends.

“And Lady is guarding our packs at the rendezvous spot,” Varric said. “But we relieved these from a guard when we heard you were captured.” Hawke quickly slipped some of the armor over her formal attire, and tied the sword belt around her waist.

“I _really_ hope I don’t ruin these clothes. I actually kind of like them,” Hawke said.

“You know, it would be a shame to leave empty handed,” Tallis said, pushing her luck. “The door just around the corner leads to the vault. And the plans that I stole show that there’s door that leads to some underground caverns inside the vault. We could sneak in, take a jewel or two … you know, to make all of this worth your time, and then sneak out through the caverns.”

“We might as well at this point,” Hawke said. “I mean they already jailed us for trying to steal something.”

They turned the corner and took care of the guards posted in the dungeons, lifted their keys, and made their way in to the vault.

“I knew there would be further security measures,” Tallis said, “but I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting this.”

The treasure was guarded by a ring of fire. There were a number of switches that would extinguish the fire off, but each could only be turned off by solving a different puzzle.

“I guess they were hoping that only stupid thieves made it past all their guards and into the vault?” Varric said.

“Let’s get to it,” Hawke said.

The group set out to solve the the three puzzles, and spent a good deal of time shouting at each other and pulling their hair out. One puzzle involved matching colored runes with the elven words for each color. But the words themselves were not so direct as “red” or “blue.” They were words or phrases that described feelings, landscapes, even the sky, and as they found out, there were apparently different perspectives on what each of those looked like. Another puzzle was a set of illusions that required one to identify each illusion in a long set. Get it wrong, and the puzzle reset. Each illusion required you to put your hand into a bowl of fire, or a bowl or spiders - when only one was the illusion. Hawke was not a fan of that particular puzzle. The last puzzle was rather, well, almost mundane compared to the first two, though it turned out to be significantly more difficult. They simply had to flip all the tiles on the ground to reveal a picture below. But each tiled you flipped, flipped more than one tile. For every tile they flipped correctly, it seemed that two others reverted to their original state. They had to reset the puzzle over a dozen times before they were able to figure it out and successfully complete it.

“Ugh. I hope I never have to steal from another Orlesian again,” Tallis said when they finally completed the puzzle. The fire fizzled out and the group grabbed whatever they could carry.

“Now let’s get out of here,” Varric said.

“The door that leads to the caverns is right ….” Tallis started to say. “Hm. It must be a hidden door. Everyone look around to find the lever or knob that –”

Something clicked, and a door slowly creaked open.

“I guess …this was the lever,” Hawke said. Hawke had attempted to pick up a painted wyvern statue, but it pulled the door lever instead.

“Well, very good,” Tallis said.

They descended a long, very very long spiral staircase that eventually opened up to an underground cavern, complete with stalagmites. Or is it stalactites?

They passed a large underground reservoir, and through a number of tunnels. Unfortunately, their escape also included a few ghast holes and they had to deal with the vermin once again. What was it that Tallis had said previously, when they first encountered the ghasts? “Be glad we’re not underground?” Now they could appreciate why she said that.

They at last came to the exit - which required a choice. It was quite literally a fork in the road.

“You could leave,” Tallis said. “ _Or_ there are other options.”

“Hm. Yes. I suppose there is room for a cot, but where would be put the dinner table?” Hawke joked.

“I was hoping you would help me finish what we started. What Salit is going to do will harm so many innocents - my people as well as yours. It’s my duty to stop him. Even so, I can’t do it alone,” Tallis said.

“Explain what’s so terrible about Salit’s plan,” Hawke said.

“I-I can’t, not completely. And yes, I know: that’s a hard sell. What I can tell you is that the information that Salit intends to hand over to Orlais won’t just hurt Qunari. It will harm anyone living in Qunari lands, even those who fled the Qunari, of any race, will be condemned to persecution forever,” Tallis said.

“And you’re telling me the truth this time? This isn’t just your way of trying to get me to help you?” Hawke asked.

“If only it was. I didn’t come here on some directive of the Qun. I came …,” Tallis sighed. “Salit was declared Tal-Vashoth, but they didn’t deem intervention worthwhile. I … couldn’t agree. I had to try to stop him.”

“Doesn’t that make you Tal-Vashoth as well?” Hawke asked.

“No. The Ben-Hassrath didn’t order me _not_ to do this, but here I am anyway. I was trying to earn my way back into their good graces. But this probably won’t help,” Tallis replied.

“Why? What did you do?” Varric asked.

“It’s not easy being an elf in the Qun. You’re not born into it like they are. I’ve struggled to find that peace, that certainty. I know it’s there; I just keep … falling short. What about you? Have you ever been part of something bigger than yourself?” Tallis asked.

“Yes,” Hawke replied. “Not that my answer validates the Qunari way of life. But yes. I was solider. I fought darkspawn at Ostagar. And now I fight to protect my family, my friends.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Tallis said. “The Qunari have a vision of what life should be like. Free from pain and fear and doubt. You see tyranny and I see caring, an interest in the welfare of all.”

“A bit judgmental don’t you think, to declare that your cause is greater than mine?” Hawke asked.

“Yes, the Qun could be better, but so could human indifference and cruelty. Or do you disagree?” Tallis asked.

“So those are the only options? Human greed and cruelty, or live under the Qun? They look like the same thing to me, just touted by different people,” Hawke said.

“No,” Tallis sighed. “This … this probably isn’t the best place for debate. Will you help me, or not?”

“After everything you’ve already done, why would I help you again?” Hawke asked.

“Because I’m got your nose?” Tallis smiled. She lightly squeezed Hawke’s nose, and pulled her hand away with her thumb between her index and middle finger.

“The Qun taught you that?” Hawke said, cocking one eyebrow.

“If I were following the Qun, I would _actually_ have your nose,” Tallis sighed again. “That doesn’t help, does it? Look, if I had my way, you would have never have been this involved in the first place.”

“I don’t think I will ever agree with you about the Qun,” Hawke said. “And honestly, I’m not very keen on helping you. But I also can’t let innocent people die. So I’m doing this for them, not for you.”

“So, you’ll help?” Tallis asked.

“Yes,” Hawke sighed.

“Wait? We’re _helping_ the Qunari?” Fenris asked.

“I told you, there are many innocent lives at stake,” Tallis said.

“And how many innocents have the Qunari slaughtered? Bah!” Fenris replied.

“The fact that Qunari have slaughtered innocent people doesn’t justify letting more innocent people die,” Hawke said. Fenris said nothing. His face said enough. But he followed Hawke all the same.

The tunnel let out to a different portion of the grounds, and it was daylight already.

“Just how long were we in the dungeons?” Tallis asked.

“Between the dungeons and the vault, all night apparently,” Hawke said.

In the distance they could see ancient Tevinter arches and what looked like some ruins. They saw a band of the Duke’s soldiers in the same direction. They turned a corner, and disappeared from sight.

“We need to hurry,” Tallis said. They followed after the Duke, but the hand-off was already underway when they finally arrived.

The Tevinter ruins was once a round building or perhaps even an amphitheater. Crumbling tan stone arches encircled half of the space. The other half of the space was open, and over looked a steep cliff. The Duke and his men stood opposite an entourage of Qunari. Well, Qunari Tal-Vashoth. The Duke was holding a scroll in his hand and waving it about as he shouted at the Tal-Vashoth.

“ … I expected anything, but … but this! This is useless!” The Duke spat. 

Hawke stepped forward into the ring, and everyone turned to face them.

“Ah, _Fereldan_. You just keep turning up,” the Duke said.

“I have an excellent sense of dramatic timing, _annnd_ good hair,” Hawke smiled.

Tallis snuck behind one of the Duke’s men while they were distracted and silently took him out. She quickly slipped on his helm, and was at the ready when the Duke passed the scroll to one of his men. She snatched it away, and disappeared back in to the trees.

“Tallis!” Salit, the Tal-Vashoth leader shouted.

“I told you I would stop you Salit,” she shouted back, crouching on top of one of the arches.

“How did she …” Varric whispered.

“Kill them all!” The Duke shouted. He pulled out a crossbow and notched it with a glowing green arrow. He aimed at Salit and pulled the trigger. The arrow exploded on Salit’s chest, covering him in a glowing green substance. Through the trees they heard the cries of a wyvern … the Duke’s pet wyvern, Leopold.

“Oh shit,” Varric cursed.

The wyvern charged at Salit, and chomped him in half in the blink of an eye.

“Don’t let him shoot you with that stuff!” Varric shouted. Between his pet wyvern, a pack of mabari hounds, and his soldiers, the Duke quickly took out the remaining Tal-Vashoth. Hawke and the gang tried to focus their attention on the Duke, but it was difficult given that Leopold was continuously spewing venom into the ring.

“Fuck!” Hawke cursed after they finally finished with the last of the Duke’s soldiers. “I _really_ didn’t want to fight another one of these things.”

Leopold was also more than twice the size of the wyvern they had killed the day before, and he targeted whoever the Duke marked with a green arrow. But they could use the cliff to their advantage, if they were careful.

“Get him to face the cliff,” Varric said. “Just before he charges.”

“Easier said than done,” Fenris shouted back.

“But worth a try,” Hawke said.

They were slowly hacking away at the beast, but it wasn’t enough. It was still too big, too tough, and they were running on no sleep, little food, and working with the bruises they got only the day before. They tried facing him toward the cliff a number of times, but their timing was always just a hair off, or the wyvern changed targets at the last second.

“This isn’t working,” Hawke panted to herself. She knew that the only way Varric’s idea would work, was if she could manage catch and maintain the wyvern’s attention. It order to taunt it though, she suspected she was going to have to royally piss it off. She started shouting at Leopold and the Duke, screaming and crying out, stomping her feet when she could. She was standing on the very edge of the cliff, screaming obscenities at the Duke. It worked. But now she had to pray that she would be able to move out of the way in time.

“Why you little Fereldan bitch!” The Duke screamed back. He aimed at her, and released an arrow. It splattered against Hawke, all over her lovely formal attire and the little armor they had borrowed from one of the guards.

“Get her Leopold, _get her!_ _”_ The wyvern roared in furry and rage, and charged directly at Hawke. She waited, biding her time, until she knew that Leopold wouldn’t be able to stop or change direction. She leapt to the side with all her strength, praying it wouldn’t drag her down with it, or knock her over into the chasm.

The wyvern rushed right off the edge of cliff, but Duke Prosper was quick. He jumped free of the wyvern, barely in time. He hung, feet dangling over the chasm, hands clinging to a large gnarled root embedded in the cliff’s edge.

“The empress will hear of this! Orlais will burn Kirkwall to the ground! All of you will die screaming, I swear it!” The Duke yelled.

“It’s up to you how this ends,” Hawke said. “I can help you up, or you can fall.” He coughed and grasped the root tighter. Hawke bent down to help him up, but he pulled out a dagger and tried to slash her. Hawke backed away, and he lost his grip of the root, and splattered on the rocks below.

“If the Duke only knew what nearly hand in his grasp,” Tallis said. “Thank you. There’s no way I could have done this without your help.”

“What’s the scroll?” Hawke asked.

“This is a list of agents throughout Thedas,” Tallis explained. “Qunari, like myself. Many of them have children, family, friends. They’re people you wouldn’t suspect. Some have even left the Qun behind. The list doesn’t distinguish innocent form guilty, it doesn’t show the friends, lovers, children. If this fell into the wrong hands, they and everyone they know …”

“Would be killed,” Hawke said.

“The Ariqun believes they knew the risks, but what about the innocents? I … I couldn’t let this happen.” Tallis said.

“It needed to be done,” Hawke said.

“You’ve been so much more than I expected,” Tallis said.

“Such as gullible,” Hawke replied.

“I … I wish I had just told you the truth from the beginning,” Tallis confessed.

“That would have been interesting,” Hawke said.

“Here,” Tallis said, pulling something out of her pocket. “This was going to be the heart of the many. You’d find a jewel while I’d go off and find Salit … and be back before anyone was the wiser. I supposed nothing ever goes as planned, does it?”

“Particularly not around Hawke,” Varric said.

“I arranged for a carriage to take you back. It should be in the same place it dropped us off yesterday, if you hurry that is,” Tallis said. “Take care of yourself Hawke. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.”

She ran off and disappeared into the trees.

“Is everyone alright? No one poisoned or injured too badly?” Hawke asked.

“I think … we’re alright,” Varric said examining himself.

“Good. Then let’s hurry up and gather our belongings, and head to the carriage. Hopefully no one discovered the packs you hid,” Hawke said.

“Agreed,” Varric said.

They at least hit a break there. Their belongings were still stowed away in the brush just down the road from the keep. Lady was standing guard, and barked happily when she smelled Hawke approach. The carriage was just beginning to roll away when they arrived. They managed to flag him down and convince the driver that despite appearances, they were the ones who had paid for the ride back to Kirkwall.

“I wonder if this green stuff washes out,” Hawke said. She unbuckled the borrowed armor and dropped it out the carriage window as they rolled away. “I think I actually managed to get away without causing too much damage to it,” she said of the formal attire.

“I hope it washes out,” Varric said. “It looked too good on you to be ruined permanently.”

“Aww, thanks Varric,” Hawke laughed.

“No I mean it,” Varric said.

“You know Hawke, between the treasure and that jewel that Tallis gave you, I bet you’ll finally have the 50 sovereigns you need,” Fenris said.

“I might even have 60 sovereigns after all of this,” Hawke said. “I guess we had better start getting serious about the expedition then.”

“It’s about time,” Varric smiled.

The carriage ride home took a few days. They slept the entire first day and only woke at the sound of Lady barking when the driver stopped for the night.


	20. Blood & Ink

They arrived back in Kirkwall in the very early morning. Varric nearly kissed the ground when they returned; he was happy to be back in the city and out of the country side. He rushed off to the Hanged Man while Fenris and Hawke groggily dragged their feet through the empty Lowtown streets.

“Oh Fenris,” Hawke said, “I almost forgot.”

Fenris stopped and turned around. Hawke tug into her pack, fished something out, and handed it to him.

“This is a Fog Warrior’s amulet,” Fenris said surprised. He accepted the amulet and the notes she handed them. “Where did you find these?”

“Inside the castle, while we were trying to find the vault. He had a number of books open and notes written down. I’m not sure why. We didn’t get a lot of time to look around,” Hawke said.

“Thank you Hawke,” Fenris said. “This … this actually means a lot to me.”

“Maybe sometime you could me more about the Fog Warriors?” Hawke said.

“I think I could do that, sometime,” Fenris smiled.

~

It was evening and the Hanged Man was bustling like usual, but Hawke was still in bed sound asleep.

“Bethany, where’s Hawke?” Isabela asked. “Varric said they got back this morning.” Isabela said as she sat down with Bethany and Merrill.

“Hawke has been sleeping all day,” Bethany said.

“Good. We still have time to work on planning things for tomorrow night,” Isabela grinned.

“Aveline said she’d be here soon,” Bethany said.

“Ugh, do we really need her? She’ll find a way to ruin all the fun,” Isabela scoffed.

“It’ll be alright,” Merrill said. “She’s Hawke’s friend too.”

“Oh, Anders is here,” Bethany said excitedly. She waved at him as he made his way over.

“Has anyone told Varric or Fenris yet?” Merrill asked.

“Do we really have to tell Fenris?” Anders asked.

“He’d be really hurt if he was the only one not invited,” Bethany said softly. “And he helps her probably more than anyone else.”

“Right. Because he can’t find work on his own,” Anders mumbled.

“I already sent Lady to his house with a message,” Bethany said.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aveline said as she sat down. “Have I missed anything?”

“Not yet,” Merrill said.

“What about Varric?” Anders asked.

“He gave me a list of things to buy and some money to cover it,” Bethany said.

“So just how old is Hawke?” Merrill asked.

“Tomorrow is her 25th birthday,” Bethany said.

“Hm. I thought she was older than that,” Anders said.

“So, I was thinking …” Isabela said. “We have the party in Varric’s room, but afterward we have a girl’s night in _my_ room.”

“Oh, you mean like a sleep over?!” Merrill said.

“Exactly!” Isabela winked.

“It would be kind of nice to have a girl’s night,” Bethany smiled.

Aveline sighed but she didn’t protest. Isabela couldn’t believe it. “What? Even I like to relax and have some fun every once in a while. Just don’t make me regret this.”

“What? No! The party should be open for everyone, for the whole time,” Anders said.

“Oh you wouldn’t be missing much,” Merrill said to Anders. “I think Isabela only wanted to play Wicked Naked Grace. You, Varric and Fenris could play your own game.”

Fenris entered the Hanged Man, followed by Lady. He saw everyone but noticed Hawke was missing.

“What is it? Is Hawke okay?” Fenris asked, his tone so serious.

“Everything is fine sweet pea,” Isabela said.

“You said it was urgent,” Fenris said, feeling particularly proud of himself that he was able to read the entire, though short, note that Bethany had sent him.

“Charlie’s birthday is tomorrow, and we wanted to throw her a party,” Bethany said.

“Oh,” he said and sat down. “I take it she does not know about this, since she is not here?”

“Hawke’s still sleeping,” Merrill explained.

“Yes, it’s a surprise,” Isabela added.

“I will help in any way I can. But, I do not know what goes on at normal birthday parties,” Fenris said.

“Normal birthday parties?” Merrill asked.

“Danarius’ birthdays always included a tremendous amount of nudity and sex, and a lot of blood magic,” Fenris explained.

“Ooooo, do tell,” Isabela said.

“… with his guests,” Fenris clarified.

“Yes, I think we can all agree to no nudity or blood magic,” Aveline said.

“But sex is still on the table?” Isabela asked.

“What? No!” Aveline blushed. Anders and Merrill laughed.

They spent the rest of the evening drinking and arguing and did very little real planning.

“What? We don’t need a cake,” Isabela said. “This doesn’t have to be some big fancy show. This _is_ Hawke we’re talking about.”

“Fine. Plan whatever you want. I’ll just show up,” Aveline sighed.

“Are we getting Hawke anything?” Merrill asked.

“What, like other than booze?” Isabela asked.

“Sorry. I just don’t know what is customary for human birthdays,” Merrill said.

“I don’t have time to get Hawke anything before tomorrow night,” Aveline said.

“Let’s all agree that we won’t get Hawke anything,” Isabela said, “that way no one feels like the bad friend.” They all agreed.

It was getting late and Aveline needed to get to bed. Fenris, Bethany, and Anders were also getting sleepy. They said good night and headed back to their homes.

~

“What is all that racket?” Hawke asked the next morning, crawling out of bed with her hair all a mess and nothing but her night shift that stopped at her knees.

“Put some clothes on!” Gamlen shouted and turned around.

“Charlie!” Leandra sang her name with joy. “Oh my dear little girl, so grown up!” She kissed Hawke on the cheek several times.

“Mother, what is going on?” Hawke asked.

“Happy birthday, sis,” Bethany said.

“Birthday?” Hawke asked. “Already? I knew it was coming up but …” she counted the days in her head and realized today was indeed her birthday.

“Twenty-five already! I remember it like it was yesterday, the day you were born,” Leandra said and kissed her again.

“We have a cake waiting for you in the kitchen,” Bethany smiled.

“Cake? For breakfast?” Hawke asked. “But you never allowed …”

“It’s not every year that you turn twenty-five,” Leandra said.

“By that logic, we should have had cake every year,” Hawke said.

“This year is special,” Leandra said.

“Why?” Hawke asked.

“We’ve been through so much since … since …,” Leandra said. “We deserve to splurge a little. Now go get cleaned up, and have Bethany help you with your hair.”

Hawke did as she was told, and with great haste. Never before had she been allowed to eat cake for breakfast. Many years they couldn’t afford to make a cake as it was. And Bethany had whispered to her that it was her favorite kind. Hawk was washed and dressed lickety-split, and Bethany brushed out Hawke’s tangled hair.

“I’m glad you grew out your hair you know. I always thought it was so pretty when it was long,” Bethany said.

“I like it long too. But it is so much harder to deal with when it’s long. It gets tangled so easily. But it has been a nice change, since I left the army,” Hawke said.

“So, what are you going to do today?” Bethany asked.

“Oh? Probably talk to Varric about selling some of the items we got from Chateau Haine. I counted it all when I got back - we’ve got 46 sovereigns. I think we’ll have more than 50 after we sell all of this,” Hawke said.

“I guess we finally need to give mother all the details of the expedition then,” Bethany said.

“Looks that way,” Hawke agreed.

“Anything else?” Bethany asked.

“What do you mean?” Hawke asked.

“Today. Anything else you want to do for your birthday?” Bethany asked.

“Drinks at the Hanged Man with everyone would be nice,” Hawke said.

“I think that can be arranged,” Bethany smiled.

“Anything you want to do today?” Hawke asked. “We don’t get too many days ‘off.’”

“Why don’t we go try on a bunch of fancy dresses?” Bethany said excitedly. It was not something that Hawke found exciting in the least, but it would be fun to watch Bethany try on a bunch of dresses, and just walk around the nice shops and the gardens in the Hightown area.

“That sounds like a great plan,” Hawke said. “You know, we might even have a little extra left over once we sell these things. You could buy a new dress if you want.”

“I’ll just wait until we come back from the Deep Roads and we buy back the estate,” Bethany said, grinning.

Hawke greedily inhaled her breakfast birthday cake, and rushed out the door with Bethany. They quickly stopped to talk to Varric and he agreed to find buyers for the more expensive items they had collected from the Chateau. Then Bethany and Hawke rushed off to the Hightown market where Bethany tried on slippers and hats, silk scarves, dresses, even a few silk pant-suits.

Hawke bought Bethany a new silk scarf, and was tying it around Bethany’s neck when a small templar guard entered the square. They were in no hurry; it was a simple, routine patrol, other than the fact that Knight Captain Cullen was with them.

“Charlie!” Bethany whispered.

“I see them Bethany,” Hawke said. “It’s alright. They’re not in a rush and they’re not alarmed. It’s just a routine patrol.”

“But … but he’s staring at me! Charlie, he can sense it, he can sense my magic, I just know it,” Bethany whispered.

“Breathe Bethany, breathe,” Hawke said. She cautiously looked up at Cullen. She swore she saw him blush.

“Ah, morning, Hawke,” Cullen said.

“Good morning Knight Captain,” Hawke replied.

“Good morning,” Bethany said softly. She curtsied and kept her eyes glued to the floor.

The Knight Captain and his guard continued on, but he glanced back.

“Are they gone yet?” Bethany was nearly in tears.

“Yes,” Hawke grinned.

“That was so close,” Bethany whispered.

“He _was_ staring at you,” Hawke agreed. “But I don’t think it’s common for templars to blush when they’re trying to search out an apostate.”

“What?!” Bethany said, and whipped her head around.

“He even glanced back,” Hawke said. Now it was Bethany who was blushing.

“That’s the last thing I need,” Bethany said, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“That reminds me,” Hawke said. “Have you talked to Anders?”

“No,” Bethany sighed. “I chickened out.”

“You should talk to him before we go to the Deep Roads,” Hawke said.

“Easier said than done you know,” Bethany replied.

Hawke and Bethany spent most of the day in the Hightown gardens. They returned in the afternoon so Bethany could run some errands, and Hawke helped Leandra prepare dinner. Leandra made Hawke’s favorite, chicken dumplings, and she even bought a large fruit tart from one of the vendors she was friends with in Lowtown.

“You girls have fun tonight,” Leandra said and waved as they scurried out the door at dusk and headed to the Hanged Man. Hawke excitedly pulled opened the door and burst into the Hanged Man. It was quite a dramatic entrance. It would have been humorous and charming, but she only received annoyed looks from the other patrons.

“No one’s here?” Hawke said disappointed. Not even Isabela was anywhere to be seen.

“Maybe they’re up in Varric’s room?” Bethany suggested, trying not to grin too much.

Varric’s door was shut, which was incredibly unusual.

“Maybe he’s not here,” Hawke said.

“I think we should just knock,” Bethany said.

“We probably shouldn’t bother him if his door is shut,” Hawke said.

“Oh just knock, will you?” Bethany said and Hawke knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Varric said through the shut door. Hawke turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They shouted. Well, specifically Varric, Anders, Merrill, and Isabela shouted. Aveline spoke enthusiastically, and Fenris simply stood up with the others.

“How did …” Hawke asked.

“Bethany started planning it while you were away,” Isabela said.

The table was stacked with bottles of alcohol, Varric had a beer keg sitting in the back corner, and there were tiny little cakes, turkey legs, a small bowl of Orlesian chocolates (which Hawke was pretty sure he stole from their room at Chateau Haine), and a steaming bowl of Anderfel cheese soup. There was a simple vase with a few roses sitting on the end table as they walked in, and Merrill had placed several colorfully glowing orbs throughout the room.

“And later,” Isabela said.

“We’re having a sleep over!” Merrill finished for her.

“We’ll move to Isabela’s room for some ladies’ night fun,” Aveline explained.

“Dig in!” Varric said, and passed around a set of expertly etched dwarven ceramic plates.

“Hawke,” Anders approached her while the others were getting their food. “Happy Birthday!” He said. He gave her a big hug and handed her a packaged modestly wrapped in some scrap cloth and twine. 

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she said. He shook his head and indicated that he wanted her to open it. She removed the twine and cloth, and turned it over in her hands. It was a book: _The Hero of Fereldan._

“Open it,” Anders smiled. Hawke opened the cover and saw that the first page had a hand written message on it.

_Hawke,_

_Heard you were a fan of the Wardens. Glad to hear it._

_Don_ _’t believe half of what you read here; the truth is even crazier._

_Take care of Anders for me._

_Sincerely,_

_Azelle Cousland_

“She signed it!” Hawke said excited. “You asked her to sign it??!” Anders laughed.

“I told you, she’s a friend,” he said.

“Thank you!” She gave Anders another big hug.

“I thought we all agreed not to get anything,” Merrill said softly.

“We did,” Isabela said. Fenris gruffly popped the cork off a wine bottle and took a big gulp.

Hawke and Varric told the others about Tallis and their adventures in Orlais, the beautiful mountain scenery and fresh cool air. The endless walking and hiking, and fighting more than one wyvern, and they played a few rounds of diamond back before Isabela swept them off to her room to continue the party.

“Alright ladies,” Isabela said. “We’re going to play Wicked Naked Grace.”

“Oh Maker,” Aveline said. “I knew you were going to do this.”

“What? You mean have fun?” Isabela said. “You don’t have to stay. The door is right there.”

“No,” Aveline said. “I’ll be a good sport. I’ll play a round or two. But you better be prepared Isabela. You’re not the only one who knows how to play.”

“Oh, a challenge? I like it,” Isabela said.

“Eeeee!” Merrill squealed. “I’ve always wanted to do this!” She was already removing some articles of clothing.

“No, Kitten. Keep your clothes on. You don’t want to take them off. You only remove them if you lose,” Isabela explained.

“Oh,” Merrill said, curbing her enthusiasm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Bethany asked, suddenly looking around.

“I think she went back to grab a few bottles,” Merrill said. Hawke returned a few minutes later and laid several bottles down on the table.

“What are the guys up to?” Aveline asked.

“I think they’re going to play some Cut Throat Diamond Back,” Hawke said.

“Alright ladies, everyone ready?” Isabela asked.

“Who has played before?” Aveline asked, sitting down at Isabela’s table. Isabela finished putting away a few things, and shut the door.

“I’ve never played,” Bethany said. “I mean, I’ve played Wicked Grace. Just not … this kind,” she said blushing a little.

“Isabela’s been teaching me how to play, but I’ve never played it with taking your clothes off,” Merrill said.

“I have,” Hawke smiled.

“I have as well,” Aveline said. “Though it’s been many years.”

“How you play doesn’t change,” Isabela explained to Bethany and Merrill. “You simply have an extra incentive to win. Every round that you are not the winner, you must remove an article of clothing. Shoes and socks count as one item. Belts and scarfs don’t count as items. Everyone needs to remove those now.” Merrill and Bethany removed their scarves, and everyone took off their belts.

“Do my leggings count as socks? Or shoes, maybe?” Merrill asked.

“No Kitten. They cover your legs, so they count as pants,” Isabela said.

“So do we have to remove clothing in a certain order? Or does the winner get to choose?” Bethany asked.

“Well now, there’s an idea,” Isabela smiled.

“No,” Aveline answered. “You get to choose what to take off. However, if you continue to lose, you eventually run out of options.”

“And we continue this until we’re completely naked?” Merrill asked.

“Yep!” Hawke smiled.

“And you’ve really done this before?” Bethany asked her sister.

“The Army,” Aveline replied. “It’s a form of initiation. Though I prefer to call it what it really is: hazing. Did you have you to walk back in your small clothes?”

“No. I was lucky. The seniors hadn’t taken mine. But there were only two of us who didn’t have to retrieve their clothes from the announcement board,” Hawke said.

“I didn’t either. But I also never had to remove all my clothing,” Aveline said.

“Let’s add another rule,” Isabela suggested. “Every time someone raises, everyone takes a shot of rum.”

“Hawke, you deal the first round,” Aveline says.

“Don’t trust me, do you?” Isabela asked.

“Not an inch,” Aveline replied. Isabela laughed, and so ladies’ night began.

~

“Wait … he did what?” Bethany blushed. “Is that even possible?” Hawke and Isabela laughed.

They were five rounds in. Clothing littered the floor. The ladies were flush from the shots of rum. Everyone had at least one article of clothing removed, including Isabela. Bethany was down to only her small clothes: a modest bra and panties. Merrill was completely bottomless and bra-less; she only had a thin undershirt left on. Isabela had won three rounds, but also was wearing the least clothing to start with. She had removed her tunic and boots, meaning she only had her corset and panties left. Aveline had won a round, and had been wearing the most layers when they started, so she still had her undershirt, bra, and panties on. Hawke had won also won a single round. She had removed her undershirt, bra, pants, and boots, leaving her in her unlaced tunic, and panties.

“It’s actually quite simple,” Isabela said. She stood up to quickly demonstrate the position she had been describing, when the door swung open.

“Ladies,” Zevran bowed. His presence in their half naked state was alarming enough. But Zevran had arrived, dressed for the occasion himself: he wore a long jacket that was fully open, nothing underneath, and a rose clenched in his teeth. His entrance was greeted by loud squealing and shouts to get out.

“What’s going?” Anders and Fenris both said, turning around. They heard more shouts from Isabela’s room and all three men sprang to their feet. They rushed into the hall, ready to come to the ladies’ rescue, when Zevran was thrown out of the room by Aveline.

“Sorry Zevran. Not tonight,” Aveline said. He stood in the hall, coat still unfastened, and completely unashamed.

“My apologies,” Zevran said. “I did not realize that Isabela had not informed everyone.”

“Everything’s okay,” Aveline said, seeing Varric, Fenris, Anders in the hall. She shook her head and opened the door again, and shut it behind her.

“That’s … that’s what it … looks like?” Bethany said, her face burning crimson red.

“Hahaha, would you like a closer look?” Isabela laughed. “I can ask him to come back.”

“NO!” Bethany nearly screamed. They all laughed.

“Perhaps you would be more welcoming of my company?” Zevran said to the men standing in the hall.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Anders said.

“Tie your coat shut, and you can join us,” Varric said.

“Many thanks,” Zevran said, and winked at Anders.

“What were you there for anyhow?” Varric asked.

“Isabela had generously invited me to give the ladies an exotic dance after they had played some rounds of Wicked Naked Grace,” Zevran said as he sat down at their table. “However, it seems that Isabela did not get consent of the other ladies before she extended the invitation to me.”

“Haha, so she actually managed to convince them to play?” Varric asked.

“Oh yes. From their level of nakedness, I would say they’ve played five rounds, or more,” Zevran said. “I could share the details, if anyone is curious to know who is no longer wearing a bra? Or perhaps who is no longer wearing any pants?” He asked seductively.

Anders swallowed hard, and stared down at the table.

“Just tell me if Hawke was the worst off?” Varric asked.

“Oh no. She and Aveline certainly won at least one round each, since Isabela was down to her very very small clothes, and neither of them were naked yet. The other two, well, they will be naked quite soon I should think,” Zevran said.

“Give me your cards,” Varric said to Fenris and Anders. “We’ll start a new round and deal Zevran in.”

~

“Bethany,” Isabela said an a few hours later when they were all sitting around the table completely nude. They had finished playing a little while ago, and were completely sloshed. “W-what was that you were drawing the other day?”

“Mmm, I just like to draw,” Bethany said. “I had been thinking about what family crest I would want, if I could design my own.”

“I really liked it,” Isabela said. “It would make a great tattoo.”

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo,” Bethany said.

“M-me too,” Hawke agreed.

“I-I ..” Merrill hiccuped. “I already have one.”

“I know a guy who does great tattoos,” Isabela said.

“We should go get tattoos!” Bethany exclaimed.

“Oooo, really?” Merrill asked. “I think I would really like that!”

“We should all get the same thing!” Hawke said, slamming her mug on the table. “Foor sisterhood!”

“Is he- is he open right now?” Bethany asked.

“He will be when we get there,” Isabela said.

“We’re not,” Aveline hiccupped, “we’re not really doing this, are we?”

“J-just like in the army!” Hawke shouted, and bolted out of her chair. It fell backward, and Hawke struggled to keep her balance.

Bethany was hopping around on one leg trying to put on her boots, even though she hadn’t put anything else on yet. Isabela pulled on her boots, and pulled her tunic on, but didn’t bother with the rest. Hawke threw on her tunic and pants, forgetting about her small clothes, and shoved her feet into her boots. Merrill pulled on her tunic, but couldn’t find her leggings, and Aveline put on her undershirt and pants, and laced up her boots.

“He doesn’t live far from here,” Isabela said. They made a quick stop at Gamlen’s house. Hawke snuck in and retrieved Bethany’s sketch book, before they ran off toward the tattoo artist’s home, giggling and loud whispering the entire way.

Isabela pounded on his door. “Archie!” she called. A scrawny little man with patches of gray hair cracked open the door a few inches. “Archie, I have four ladies who want tattoos.”

“Too bad,” he said in a scratchy voice. “Go away, Bela.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Isabela said. He squinted at her. “And I brought rum.” She held up the bottle. He reached out and grabbed it, took a gulp, and threw open the door.

He led them back to his tattooing room, and began lighting several lamps. Merrill gently waved her hand, creating several glowing orbs that floated around the room.

“Hmh,” he said, looking at Merrill.

“So who’s first?” He asked.

“Me!” Bethany shouted. “Sorry,” she giggled. He pointed to the chair and she sat down.

“So what’s it going to be? A rose?” He grumbled.

“Can you tattoo this?” She said, pulling out the doodle she had been working on the other day. He looked at it and even seemed impressed.

“Sure kid. Where do you want it?” She hadn’t even considered _where_. She looked at Hawke and Isabela.

“Well, do you want a naughty tattoo?” Isabela asked. “One that only a few lucky guys ever get to discover? One that you can easily cover up? One that is visible in most clothing?”

“I think I want it on the back of my shoulder,” she said. He instructed her drop her shirt down, and lay down on her stomach.

“While we each wait for our turn,” Isabela said. “Let’s play another favorite game of mine: Never Have I Ever.”

The five ladies were crammed into the small tattooing room. They passed around the two bottles of rum, and giggled as they played Isabela’s new game.

It was a small design, roughly 2 inches by 2 inches, and simple but everyone really liked it. They decided to get the same tattoo in solidarity, though they chose different colors. Bethany got the tattoo in red, on her left shoulder blade. Merrill decided to get the tattoo in black on her hip, just below her panty line. Hawke chose red, and had him place it on her right side, right on her ribs. Aveline also got the tattoo in black, on her upper left arm. Isabela got the tattoo in dark blue on her right, upper thigh.

They were beginning to crash when Archie finished the tattoos. Hawke paid him, and Isabela took care of the tip. She left him one of the bottles, and he slammed the door shut behind him. The sun was beginning to rise as they stumbled back to the Hanged Man shouting and laughing. The tavern was silent as the grave when they entered, and nearly empty. They tip-toed up the stairs, and giggled as Isabela dipped into Varric’s room and stole the pot of cold Anderfel Cheese soup and stale slices of bread. The guys were passed out sitting around the table.

“That didn’t hurt at all,” Bethany said, as they down around the table again.

“Oh it will,” Isabela promised.

She put the soup over the fire, and passed out mugs for everyone to use. They scooped the soup into the mugs and chatted as they ate their soup and bread. They soon passed out. Merrill and Isabela fell asleep in Isabela’s bed. Aveline and Bethany fell asleep in their chairs, heads laying on the worn wood table, and Hawke fell asleep on the floor, laying near the fire for warmth.

They woke several hours later with decent hangovers, and sore and aching bodies. The soup was gone and they were starving. Stomachs growling, they headed down to the bar to order some of Norah’s famous honey porridge. The men were already downstairs, doing the same thing.

“Morning ladies,” Zevran grinned. Bethany blushed wildly when she saw him.

“Good morning,” Isabela said.

“How’d it go last night?” Varric asked.

“Oh it was so much fun,” Merrill said.

“Hawke, you’re bleeding,” Fenris said, pointing at her shirt. Hawke glanced to where he was pointing.

“Oh, that’s just ink,” Hawke said.

“It’s both, actually,” Isabela said.

“Ink?” Anders asked.

“Yes,” Aveline sighed.

“ _We_ got tattoos last night,” Isabela said.

“Technically it was this morning,” Hawke corrected.

“Tattoos?” Fenris asked.

“What did you all get?” Varric asked. Aveline lifted up her sleeve and pulled up the bandage just enough to display her tattoo. It was still raw and swollen, and bleeding a little, but the design was clear enough.

“Bethany drew it,” Aveline said.

“Did you all get the same thing?” Anders asked.

“Yes. Just in different places,” Merrill said.

“How are you feeling Hawke?” Isabela asked. “You chose one of the most painful places to get a tattoo.”

“Oh, it definitely aches,” Hawke said.

“Yes, it hurts now,” Bethany agreed.

“Do you regret it?” Fenris asked.

“No, I actually don’t,” Bethany smiled, thinking about it. Hawke hugged Bethany and kissed her on the forehead.

“Thanks for the great birthday, Bethany,” Hawke said. Bethany hugged her back, and Hawke winced when Bethany’s arm brushed up against her side.

“Mother isn’t going to be happy,” Bethany laughed.

“She’ll get over it,” Hawke said.


	21. Blood & Blight

Varric sold the remaining items from Chateau Haine, which brought Hawke to a total of 58 sovereigns. They approached Bartrand with the money and the maps. After some arguing and convincing, Bartrand agreed. He couldn’t refuse. He could now begin the final preparations for the expedition. The date was set and two weeks later they had all their supplies and gear packed, and they were saying their good byes.

“Bring me back something good!” Isabela said.

“Me too!” Merrill said.

“Be careful,” Aveline said to Bethany, almost exactly the same way Leandra had said it. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“… And remember,” Anders said, quickly trying to spout off everything he knew about darkspawn.

“It’s okay Anders. I might not be a Grey Warden, but I have fought darkspawn before,” Hawke said.

“I always forget that,” he said.

“It’s not too late for you to join us,” Bethany said.

“No, I … I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, but the Deep Roads terrify me.”

“Charlie, really,” Leandra begged. “Leave Bethany here with me. You have Varric and Fenris, and all these other strong men. Please leave Bethany here.”

“Mother, I can do this. I _want_ to do this,” Bethany said.

“Oh my baby,” Leandra said, nearly brought to tears.

“It’ll be okay mother,” Hawke said. “We need Bethany though. She’s trained with Anders. She’s the best healer we’ve got, and the only mage.”

“We’ll be gone for several weeks,” Varric explained to Leandra. “At least 4, but probably 5 or 6.” Leandra nodded. Bartrand had already been barking for fifteen minutes about it being sodding time to leave. Everyone gave each other one final hug, and waved the expedition farewell as they marched off into the horizon. It was two days before they reached the Deep Roads entrance, and it took a full day just to descend the extensive entrance stairs. The way was technically clear, but there were several sections that had eroded way, or areas where landslides had all but cut the stairs off. It was a long day of carefully stepping down each step and over piles of dirt, squeezing through tight spaces, and passing all the gear through.

They setup camp when at last they reached the “ground” as it were, and the main route of the Deep Roads.

“So are Charlie and I are the only ones who have actually fought darkspawn before?” Bethany asked as they sat around the camp fire that night, though being underground, you couldn’t tell whether it was night or day.

“Bartrand has seen them before, but his hirelings have always been the ones to fight them. And this time, ya I think so. Most of us have never even been to the Deep Roads before,” Varric said looking around at the other hirelings.

“Hawke, you and Aveline fought them at Ostagar, did you not?” Fenris said. “What can you tell us about them?”

“Carver too,” Bethany added.

“Hmm. Well, that was during the blight. There were far more than we should encounter here. And with the archdemon, they were rather more … organized than I had expected. They could lie in wait and set traps, and they had mages among the darkspawn. I was very surprised to see that. Magic takes so much more thought and control than simply swinging a sword does,” Hawke said.

“Darkspawn mages? Shit,” Varric said. They could all feel Fenris’ agreement, though he didn’t say a word.

“They were … overwhelming,” Hawke continued. “They were absolutely everywhere. Fearless. Ruthless. Not even losing a limb gives them pause. Time … didn’t flow naturally that night on the battle field. It felt like I had been fighting for hours, besieged from all angles, without seeing another human solider anywhere in sight. It was a sinking, lonely, desperate feeling. It could have ten minutes as easily as it could have been five hours. But however long it was, I eventually was given a much needed reprieve by some archers. I had been knocked down. Hurting and desperately trying to catch my breath, I stood up and just … stood there for a moment. I glanced around the battle field. I saw a massive ogre throw King Cailan’s crushed body. His corpse skid at least fifteen feet before it came to a stop. I watched Duncan, the Grey Warden, kill that same ogre and then I watched him fall too. I saw the tower beacon light, and I watched Loghain’s troops retreating in the distance. The archers were gone. Carver was nowhere in sight. Everyone seemed to fade from sight, and only darkspawn were left. The grass and the dirt had been swallowed by blood and gore. The screams reverberated in your skull, inside your helmet, and every stone an ogre threw shook the whole of Thedas it seemed.

I remember not being sure what to do. The king was dead. The reinforcements had retreated. Quitting the field felt wrong. It felt like desertion, but if there had been any hope for the battle, it was long gone. They were too numerous. I felt sure that there was no way to safely escape the field, even if I could convince myself to desert my comrades. But I was resolved to stay and fight to the bitter end. If there was no way out, fine. I would take as many of them down with me as I could. But suddenly someone grabbed my arm and tugged. It was Carver, and I nearly took his head off with my great axe. He said we had to go. They were moving north. We had to get to Lothering as soon as possible, get mother and Bethany, and flee.

It was noon the next day before we stopped running. We found a hill in a clearing, and a small creek. We would be able to see anything coming at us from there, while we took a moment to washed the blood and gore from our bodies, and drank some water. The water was cold that it was bitting. My muscles contracted and made it hard to move. We were racked with cuts and bruises, a few broken bones. I had a broken rib and Carver had a sprained wrist. We didn’t waste any time. We washed and discarded some of our gear, just enough to allow us to move more quickly, and we were running again.”

There was a long pause. Hawke had never talked to anyone about Ostagar. She hadn’t been ready want to. But this felt like the right time, for whatever reason. She & Aveline had mentioned the battle briefly with each other, but mostly it was no more than mentioning the word Ostagar, followed by heavily drinking in silence together.

Realizing how heavy the story was, and how no one had actually asked about the battle - just the darkspawn, Hawke stopped talking about Ostagar and returned to Fenris’ question.

“Darkspawn weaknesses, hm,” Hawke said. “Not many,” she said after thinking for a few minutes. “It’s important to stay on guard, not to back down. Don’t give them any ground. They will not give you any. And as I said, they fear nothing. And there are many types, as the Wardens explained to us before the battle. Genlocks, usually smaller. Hurlocks, larger. Ogres are the largest. And they are VERY large. They’re a grey-purple, or sometimes a grey-blue color. They have large horns and they can easily pick any of us up with one hand - so you need to stay out of reach with them. But they also charge, and throw large rocks. We fought them during the blight, as I mentioned, so I’m not sure how these darkspawn will behave. Maybe there won’t be any mages among them, without the archdemon? I expect that they won’t be very organized now. And of course, you must be very vigilant with any cuts or wounds, lest you get the blight sickness. Honestly, Carver and I couldn’t believe that we didn’t get the blight sickness.”

The whole camp had stopped whatever they were doing, and were attentively listening to Hawke’s war stories. And it was making all of them very uneasy. Varric realized the affect it was having on the morale, and quickly changed the subject.

“Uh, maybe we should talk about something less … terrifying,” he said glancing around. “So, Sunshine, what is the first thing you’re going to do when we get back and you find yourself a rich woman living in Hightown?”

“Oh! I’m definitely going shopping for some new dresses with mother. And I’m going to buy some silk slippers too,” Bethany said.

“What about you Hawke?” Varric asked.

“Other than buy back the family estate … hmm. The very first thing will definitely be celebrating at the Hanged Man by getting very, very drunk.”

~

The following day they had encountered a few darkspawn. Few in number, and disorganized. Hawke, Fenris, & Varric easily took them down while Bethany protected the rest of the group from behind a magical barrier. The Deep Roads were impressive. Such craftsmanship in the pillars and walls. Heck, even the floor tiles were mostly neat and even, hundreds of years later. The ceilings were much taller than they had expected as well, given the height of the dwarves. Hawke and the others had expected to feel cramped and crammed in, but the roads were usually 20 feet wide and there was at least another ten feet above the tallest human of the group. What did make it feel claustrophobic though was the stuffy, warm air, given the lack of ventilation. It made it hard to breathe at times, and Varric had to stop several times to catch his breath.

It was getting late in the day when the forward scouts returned and reported that the way ahead was blocked, and they couldn’t find a way around. Furious, Bartrand demanded that they set camp until they could sort it out. Naturally, Hawke, Fenris, Bethany, & Varric would be sent to find an alternative route. Additionally, Bodahn the merchant said that his boy, Sandal, had wandered off. They had to find him before the darkspawn did.

There were only two possible routes around the cave in. The first route they took, they didn’t get very far before they discovered that the tunnel here had caved in as well. They headed back to the other tunnel, and they were able to proceed much farther. In fact, it seemed that the walls were all intact and that it would only be a matter of how dangerous it was, or if it joined their intended route somewhere along the way. After twenty minutes of adventuring through the side tunnel and various, they stepped into what was actually a very large room. The ceiling was taller than the rest of the Deep Roads and large roots had pushed through in areas.

“What would a room like this have been for?” Bethany asked, as they descended the stairs in the room. In the distance they heard faint noises, too distant to distinguish.

“I don’t know Sunshine. I mean, this looks like a big … empty room,” Varric said surveying it. Fenris finished lighting the torches, when suddenly Hawke shrieked bloody murder and leaped backward as giant spiders began pouring through the doorway.

Hawke took several deep breaths and unsheathed her sword. She had gotten better about encountering giant spiders, with all the spiders they had killed in Sundermount that year. Bethany sent a fireball at a cluster of them, which chased a few away.

“More coming in from the back,” Varric shouted.

Hawke found it helpful to scream at the spiders with a viscous war cry, as she hacked away at them. Of all the monsters you could encounter, it’s never made any sense how giant spiders have such tough hides as they do. They might be larger, but it shouldn’t take such great effort to squish them. Four down, then five. Only two remaining, when the mother of all giant spiders burst into the room fuming with its own rage. Hawke screamed so loud she nearly burst everyone’s eardrums. Hawke fell to the floor, and swiftly crawled away from the spider that now filled the entire room. Fenris and the others were doing their best to take it down, but Hawke’s scream had gained its ire, and it was adamant about tearing her from limb to limb. Hawke was stricken stupid with fear, gaping up at the massive spider towering above them. Bethany leaped in between Hawke and the spider, suffering a large gash to her arm. Bethany cried out in pain, which shook Hawke out of her stooper. Still shaking and shivering, Hawke stood and clutched her sword with a death grip.

“Just shut it out,” she kept repeating to herself, until she had managed to steel herself. The others managed to wound it enough, which gave Hawke the chance to slip under it’s belly and slash it open. Spider guts and goo exploded everywhere. The spider screamed and stumbled. It teetered and shrilled, and rolled on its side, trapping Hawke beneath it. Varric and Fenris hoisted the spider up with all their might, until they could see Hawke. Bethany pulled Hawke out, still shaking and shivering. And now drenched in putrid spider guts, as they all were.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke,” Varris said turning to face Hawk, until he saw the blank, empty look on her face. “I’ll go see what’s in the next room,” Varric said. He returned a few minutes later.

“The next room is clear,” he said. The moved forward through a series of smaller rooms, until they ran into a small band of darkspawn.

“Still no darkspawn mages,” Varric yelled.

“Yet,” Fenris shouted back.

They quickly dispatched the darkspawn and found Sandal, safe and sound, standing in the next room. More than safe and sound, Sandal was surrounded by a dozen darkspawn bodies, and one ogre that looked crystalline.

“Stay close to use Sandal. We’ll go back to your father shortly,” Hawke said. They ventured into two more rooms before it was clear that this path led exactly where they needed it to.

“This goes through, and the way ahead is clear. We can go back now and tell Bartrand,” Varric said. Bartrand and the others had already setup camp when they got back. Bartrand was glad of the news, and that they had taken care of the spiders. That meant they could regain time the next morning. While they were gone, the men had found an underground lake. The canteens and barrels had all been replenished, which meant that the group was now free to go bathe and rid themselves of the spider goo.

“Ladies first,” Varric insisted. Bethany & Hawke went first, stripping down to their undershirts. Varric and Fenris waited from a distance; close enough to assist should there be any trouble, but far enough away that Bethany & Hawke had their privacy.

Hawke was still trembling as she scrubbed the goo out of her hair, and off her body, clothes, and armor.

Bethany looked up and gasped. “Charlie … stay still,” she said.

“What?” Hawke asked, alarmed, but as soon as she said it, she felt it: eight little legs crawling around her shoulder, over her back, and making its way to her neck. Hawke shrieked, jumped, and flailed around hysterically.

Fenris and Varric came rushing to the lake to find Hawke screaming as she hacked a spider (as big as her fist) into a fine powdery-goo with her great sword. Bethany did her best to comfort her and Hawke shivered and trembled. They were thinly dressed and soaking wet, their undershirts clinging to their skin. Hawke’s undershirt was untied and exposed a great deal of cleavage. It stopped just below her bottom, exposing the entirety of her legs. And Bethany was similarly exposed.

“Sorry for the false alarm,” she said, turning to Varric & Fenris.

Another baby spider rushed out from under Hawke’s clothes. Fenris quickly and quietly crushed it under his foot.

“Come on kid,” Varric motioned to Fenris as he walked away. Fenris was transfixed, unable to take his eyes off of Hawke.

“Fenris,” Varric said sternly, jarring him out of his trance. Blushing, he sheathed his sword and retreated with Varric.

Hawke had finally managed to calm down, but only after scrubbing her clothes five times, and scrubbing her skin nearly raw. The camp was setup with multiple small fires, and a pot of stewed sat over each. Fenris, Varric, Bethany, & Hawke sat around their own small fire. Hawke kept twitching and scratching herself.

“I’m going to have nightmares for ages,” Hawke moaned.

~

Luckily the next day was filled with numerous darkspawn, which gave Hawke a chance to work through her anger and fear, and repair her sullied image. She cleaved through them one after the other, as though they were made of butter. The reanimated golems gave them a bit more trouble than the darkspawn, but they were brought down none-the-less. A shame really - golems seemed like could be a useful aid against the darkspawn. Why they attacked random travelers didn’t make any sense to Hawke.

It took two and a half weeks to reach the lost thaig. They faced mostly darkspawn along the way, though there were the occasional creepy crawlers too. The thaig was all it had promised to be, and more. It didn’t even seem dwarven, like it could have predated the dwarves. In the center, on a blood red alter, lay an idol made purely of a red lyrium - something no one had ever heard of before.

As they were picking through the treasure, determining junk from valuables and packing them away, Varric noticed that the room had grown suddenly quiet. Bartrand was nowhere to be seen, and many of his men had retreated as well. There was a loud creaking noise, and they watched the thaig doors close.

“Bartrand,” Varric shouted. “Bartrand, the door shut behind you.”

“You always did notice everything, Varric,” Bartrand replied.

“Are you joking? You’re going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?” Varric shouted.

“Not just the idol. The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune, and I’m not splitting that three ways,” Bartrand said. “Sorry, brother.”

Everything was different from that moment on. Cut off, the group had to find another way through. They faced darkspawn, spiders, shades, and demons. What were they doing in the Deep Roads? And they were forced to waste a great deal of time exploring passages that turned into dead ends. The further they ventured, the stranger the thaig felt.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Varric said.

“Is it actually dwarven?” Hawke asked.

“I don’t know,” Varric replied, marveling at the designs and artwork etched into the stone.

A number of small boulders rolled down from a whole in the ceiling, loosened by the echoes their voices made.

“Careful!” Fenris shouted, as more boulders followed. But they soon realized that they were not in fact, trigger by their echoes. These boulders were somehow alive, and hunger. They rolled to the floor and slowly collected themselves together, and stood like small rock people.

“What are these things?” Varric cried as the rock creatures attacked them.

“You’re the dwarf, you tell me!” Hawke replied.

“They look like rock wraiths,” Varric said.

“Rock what?” Bethany asked.

“Wraiths!” Varric repeated. “But they supposed to be a myth, a legend.”

More rock wraiths poured in through the opening. They weren’t very strong, or durable, which was surprising. But then again they didn’t understand how boulders could be alive in the first place. Lyrium maybe? They had slain, or at least destroyed, a great number of them when the sound of something larger stirred behind them.

“Enough,” the giant rock wraith said. “You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need.”

“We are only defending ourselves,” Hawke replied, weapon still drawn.

“They will not assault you further, not without my permission,” the massive wraith replied.

“Just what are these things?” Bethany asked.

“They hunger. The Profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding only on the magic stones until the need is all they know,” the wraith replied.

“The lyrium? That’s what sustains them?” Bethany asked.

“I am not as they are. I am …. A visitor,” it continued.

“Careful Charlie. I think he’s a demon, who feeds on their hunger,” Bethany said.

“I would not see my feast end,” the wraith said. “I see your desire. You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so.”

“Why do we need your aid to leave?” Hawke asked.

“There is another door that leads into the paths far above us. That is what you seek. It has been sealed however, and cannot be opened without a key. I know where the key is. Do as I ask, and I shall tell you,” the wraith explained.

“We’re not dealing with a demon,” Hawke said.

“Most unwise,” the wraith replied, and calling to it a number of other demons and wraiths. Somehow admist the fighting, the massive rock wraith disappeared.

“And dwarves voluntarily lived down here,” Varric said, shaking his head.

They dealt with the small horde they were facing, and continued forward: starving, aching, and exhausted. It had already been a week since Bartrand had closed the door behind them. Luckily, they had another underground lake along the way, as well as some deep mushrooms, or they would have died already.

The rest of their journey was difficult, now that every critter had been alerted to their presence, and commanded to attack them. They hadn’t seen any sight of the massive rock wraith in two days when they discovered a colossal sized room that Varric said would have been a vault. They had only but stepped foot into the room when pile of rocks fell and blocked the exit, and the massive rock wraith reappeared.

“Shit,” Varric cursed.

The battle followed something like this: imagine very large boulders strung together by magic to form some kind of creature with two arms and two legs, no eyes and no visible weaknesses, towering at least twenty-five feet in the air. Not only can it slam its boulders down at you and call form other creatures to aid it, but it is also capable of magical spells because, somehow, this is a rock wraith possessed by a demon. It tossed boulders at them, swung it’s massive arms at them, stomped his massive feet, called forth others, and released great searing pulses of magic that burned the air and incinerated flesh. The pillars and ceiling shook, and no one was sure how long before the room caved in on them. There was but a moment, a single opening that no one could have taken advantage but Fenris, with his lyrium ghost ability to pass through solid matter. The wraith had just expended a great deal of energy and was attempting to recover. Fenris slip through the smaller wraiths, phasing right through them, leapt into the air, and drove sword through the center boulder of the wraith. The boulder split in two and crashed to the ground, sizzling and steaming. Rocks pelted to the ground, and all it’s smaller allies scurried away in fear.

“Look what it was guarding,” Hawke said, pointing past the wraith. It had been a vault indeed. There were numerous overflowing chests and piles of jewels. They rummaged through the treasure for the best pieces, so long as they could actually carry it back.

“I found a key,” Bethany said, holding it up. Varric took and tried it in the door. The great doors clicked and creaked open.

“Thank the Maker,” Hawke exclaimed with relief.

They finished grabbing whatever they could carry away from the treasure pile, and hurried out of that place. It was only another day before they were back to the original path, the main road that they had traveled when they entered, and they knew now that it would only be another were before they reached the surface.

Unfortunately, tragedy wasn’t done with them yet. Hawke could never figure out when, or how, or how it had taken hold so quickly - but Bethany had been infected with the blight sickness. She collapsed just a week before they reached the surface. She was already gravely ill - skin turning the color ash, and her lips darkening to blue and then to black.

“Bethany, how can you ask me to do this?” Hawke cried.

“Because it’s what I want. It’s what I need,” Bethany rasped. “Look after mother.”

“Bethany …” Hawke said, feeling her chest tighten. _T_ _his can_ _’t be real. This can’t be happening,_ Hawke thought.

“Please Charlie,” Bethany begged. “The suffering is too great.” A single tear escaped Bethany’s eye and slowly rolled down her face. It felt like time had stopped. Sound ceased to be sound. Hawke’s mouth tasted like ash. She was trapped in a void, but she didn’t want to leave; there was only one way to leave and the thought of it made her whole body feel like jelly.

Bethany coughed and winced. A dark liquid drizzled out of her mouth, and ran down her neck. Still the world was silent. Hawke saw herself, as though from above, pull out a dagger and plunge into Bethany’s heart. But the void didn’t retreat. The world had gone still and silent and cold.

Bethany lay in Hawke’s arms, and Hawke starred into the distance, eyes empty. She couldn’t hear Varric or Fenris. She didn’t feel Varric pat her on the shoulder. But she did feel else something cool creep over her hand. She pulled her hand up to see what it was. She starred at the red that slowly dripped from her hand, drip by drip. Suddenly the void receded. Sound and heat and feeling returned all at once, like a tidal wave crashing down on her. Her stomach lurched. Hawke held the vomit in with her hand, and ran to the far corner of the room where she vomited against the wall.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She could hear Varric crying softly and whispering his farewell to Sunshine. She could hear the sound of pebbles and rock tumbling to the ground, somewhere in the distant. There was an echo, and what she thought was a soft scrapping noise, but it seemed to be retreating. They couldn’t remain too long, lest the Darkspawn find them. And … Hawke collapsed to the ground and tears silently poured out of her eyes. … Lest Darkspawn find them and feast upon her sister’s body.

Her soldier training began taking control, slowly closing the doors to her emotions. Her tears stopped and she wiped them from her face. She stood carefully; her whole body still quite weak.

“We need to build a pyre quickly,” she said.

“Hawke …,” Varric said.

“I know it’s dangerous, but I’m not leaving her body to be devoured by Darkspawn,” Hawke commanded. No one objected. The trouble was finding anything to burn down in the deep roads. They used empty sacks, a few crates. Hawke pulled off every piece of her clothing that wasn’t absolutely essential, and added it to the pile. Fenris had wandered off to see if he could find any roots or abandoned carts. He came back with a large armful of wood. They piled it altogether, and Hawke gently placed Bethany on top. She removed Bethany’s scarf and stuffed it in her pocket, and knelt down in front of the pile.

“Fuck,” Hawke exclaimed, and the tears returned once more. She hadn’t considered how they were going to light the pyre. She had taken for granted the fact that Bethany was always the one to light the torches and fires.

“Allow me,” Fenris said softly. He stepped forward with a fire rune, and ignited his lyrium veins to force the rune to spark, and then gently blaze. It took a few minutes before the fire took hold. They stepped back, and watched Bethany’s body, Sunshine’s pure little face marred by black veins and black lips, disappear in flames.

Burning a body, underground, in the stuffy Deep Roads was … unpleasant to say the least. But Hawke insisted that they wait until there was nothing but ash left.

“I guess that means we should setup camp nearby,” Varric said quietly to Fenris. Fenris only nodded. They chose a small room nearby. The exit on the other side was cut off by a cave in, but the room was big enough for all of them and would provide decent protection at night, as well as provide as escape from the smoke and the smell of the pyre. But Hawke wouldn’t leave the pyre. She wouldn’t take shelter and sleep in the room. She wouldn’t even argue about it - she simply stopped responding to all of Varric’s pleas and reasonable points.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fenris told Varric. So Fenris kept watch over Hawke, from a distance. Eventually Hawke fell asleep, and Varric relieved Fenris half way through the night. Hawke woke up coughing as the pyre had died to nothing but ambers and smoke. Varric brought over some water and toasted deep mushrooms. Hawke managed to force herself to eat two bites, but couldn’t get anything else down after that.

“Varric,” Hawke said, after coughing and clearing her throat a good deal. “Could you … bring me the empty jar.”

“The … empty jar?” Varric asked, not following.

“The one that Bethany used,” she said. Varric still wasn’t following. “The empty lyrium jar,” Hawke finally said.

“Oohh, sure,” he replied, and quickly retrieved it.

Hawke started scrapping some of Bethany’s ashes into the jar with a flat blade. There was a soft cling when the blade hit something hard. Hawke brushed the ashes aside to discover a tooth. Hawke reeled and had to steady herself. Her stomach lurched again, and she quickly retreated to vomit on the back wall. Fenris took up the job for her, until the jar was full.

“Do you want to grab another jar?” Varric asked. They filled one more jar, but that was all they had.

“This is enough,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”

They packed up camp, and silently made their way home. They said very little to each other over the next week. Bethany’s death had taken a great toll on all of them. So had the several extra weeks of being in the Deep Roads, thanks to Bartrand. None of them slept particularly well, and Hawke continually jolted awake by her nightmares. The most frustrating and exhausting part was how hard Hawke tried to scream out in her dreams, but it was like a weight was on her chest. She could never find her voice, or her breath. The struggling to scream is usually what woke her.

A week after Bethany’s death, they emerged from the Deep Roads, and the fresh air hit their lungs hard.

“Oh sweet Andraste,” Hawke said. “I don’t know how the Dwarves of Orzamar do it.”

“Me either,” Varric agreed.

It was another two days before they reached the city. All the gear and the valuables were quickly carried off to a warehouse, and Varric took care of all of the paperwork, yelling at several people before they were done. It had taken all day to unload everything, catalog it, and oversee it being packed into the warehouse.

“Anyone up for a drink?” Varric asked.

“Definitely,” Fenris said.

“Sure,” Hawke said. She wasn’t ready to go home yet. She didn’t know how in the world she could ever face her mother.

It was just after dusk when they arrived at the Hanged Man.

“Home sweet home,” Varric sighed with great relief and joy. They stepped inside. It felt odd to be back.

“Varric!” Norah shouted. “We’ve missed you.”

“And how I have missed you,” he smiled.

“Three mugs then?” She asked. He nodded. They had barely made it ten feet inside the door when they heard a familiar voice.

“Hawke!” Isabela shouted.

“Hawke!” Merrill said with delight. But their voices fell on Hawke like a great weight. Her heart sank back to the pits of her stomach, and she quickly turned around and left.

“What … Varric, what was that all about?” Isabela asked, hurt and confused.

“It’s … it’s a long story. Come upstairs,” Varric sighed.

Hawke had nowhere else to go, but home. So home she went. After being away for eight and a half weeks, she was home once more. But it felt even less like home than it had before.


	22. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Act 1! Act 2 is still in the writing process. Hang tight, I should have Act 2 posted by the end of July 2020, I'm hoping. Please leave me comments! i would love to know what you think of Act 1. I have written this much in a long time, and this is my first time sharing something with others, so I'd really like your feedback, both comments of encouragement and constructive criticism. 
> 
> Thanks!

They had a Chantry funeral service for Bethany, but without a body … the service was short and felt empty.

Varric was able to find immediate buyers for a number of items that they had retrieved from the thaig, and with it Hawke and Leandra were finally able to petition the Viscount for the family estate. Hawke, with some help from Aveline, handled the paperwork since Leandra couldn’t get out of bed for weeks. Even the weather itself seemed to be grieving. It had been raining for weeks almost straight, only a few days here and there where it didn’t rain. Unfortunately, there was nothing anyone could say to ease Hawke’s pain or guilt, and she didn’t want to hear it anyhow. She pulled away from everyone and often went days without seeing or speaking to anyone.

A few weeks after the funeral service, on a cloudy, drizzly day, Anders went to see Hawke. He knocked softly at the door. Gamlen answered.

“Hello? What do you want?” Gamlen asked roughly.

“I came to check on Hawke and Leandra,” Anders said.

“Leandra doesn’t want to see anyone, and Hawke … hmph. Haven’t seen her in a few days,” Gamlen said.

“Days?!” Anders said.

“Heh. She’s probably up in the mountains again,” Gamlen said and shut the door harshly.

Anders knew the place Gamlen was referring to - the family shrine, near the Bone Pit. The road would be muddy, but if Hawke had been gone for days - he was concerned about her wellbeing. Her physical wellbeing at present. He rushed back to his clinic and packed a small bag of food and water, and a few potions, and quickly made his way up the steep mountain road.

The paint on the trees had begun to wash off, but he soon found the trail and stepped into the small clearing. Hawke was laying on the ground, in the mud In front of the makeshift alter. She was curled up and completely soaking wet.

“Hawke!” Anders yelled. He rushed over to her, but she pushed him away.

“Go away!” Hawke sobbed. “Just leave me alone!”

Anders noticed a dagger laying in the mud a few inches away from Hawke, and next to it lay Hawke’s severed beautiful braid. Anders knelt down gently behind her, and placed a hand on her back.

“Hawke, you can’t stay out here in the weather like this. You’ll get sick. And have you eaten anything today? Or yesterday?” He looked around and didn’t see a pack or any food. Just a small water skin and an empty bottle of booze.

“Anders, why can’t you just leave me alone?! I don’t want to see you right now! You of all people!” She cried and curled up even tighter.

“Did I, did I do something wrong?” Anders asked. He wondered if she blamed him for not going to the Deep Roads with him - like he blamed himself. If he had been there, if he had gone - they could have found the other Grey Wardens. They could have saved Bethany. If only he hadn’t been such a coward.

“Nooo!” Hawke sobbed. “Just go away!”

“Hawke. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gone with you-” he apologized.

“Stop! No, just stop!” Hawke cried. “Stop…”

“Hawke …” Anders said. His heart was breaking and he didn’t know what to do for her.

“Every time I look at you, or hear your voice … I see her,” Hawke cried. “She was in love with you, you know.” She sat up and turned around. Her eyes were red and puffy from the unending tears. Her head pounded and her stomach growled. She was simultaneously starving and not hungry at all. Every time she tried to eat, her stomach refused the food. She was too twisted and full on anger and self-loathing, but mostly pain.

Anders didn’t know what to say. He had known how Bethany felt, but he didn’t feel the same way. He had avoided addressing the issue with her. Maybe if he ignored it, it would just go away, he had thought.

“Hawke, I … I’m sorry,” Anders repeated.

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” Hawke screamed. She screamed so hard her throat hurt, and it forced her to cough. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just _please_ , _please_ go away,” she begged.

“I can’t do that Hawke,” Anders replied.

“ _Whhhhhy_?” Hawke cried, visibly shaking from the sobs.

“Because I’m your friend. Because I care about you,” he said.

“Well you shouldn’t,” Hawke muttered. “I can’t protect anyone. I’m just a fraud. Everyone I care about ends up dying - horribly.” She collapsed to the ground again, hugging herself and sobbing.

“Hawke, you know that’s not true.” Anders put a hand on her shoulder. But she knew it was true. Neither of them spoke for a long time. It was entirely silent all around them. There were no birds or other animals. Only the sound of rain dripping from pine needles filled the air, and Hawke’s occasional sniffles.

Hawke fell asleep, laying there in the mud. Anders got up and lit the fire pit to toast some of the food he brought. He didn’t have much with him, but he suspected it was a great deal more than Hawke had eaten in days. Once the fire was roaring strong, he gently shook her arm to wake her.

“Hawke, come sit down. Just eat something,” he pleaded. She silently obeyed. Her hair was matted with mud and leaves. She had dirt crammed under her finger nails and in her mouth, running into her ears, and down her cleavage. She had dirt running down into places that dirt should never be found.

He handed her a piece of toasted baguette and some nug jerky. She nibbled at the bread.

“This can’t be real,” she finally whispered. “This can’t be possible. This can’t be _forever_.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

They sat around the fire for another hour before Anders packed up what little he had brought.

“Come on Hawke. We should head back before it gets dark,” he said.

“I don’t want to go back. I can’t go back. I can’t … I can’t stay in our room anymore, or hear mother’s cries, or listen to how softly Gamlen tries to tiptoe around the house. I can’t handle it Anders,” Hawke said.

“You could always stay with me,” he offered.

“I don’t want to be around anyone,” Hawke cried. “Can’t you understand?”

“I do,” Anders said softly. His eyes reflected her pain. He must have felt just as destroyed when Karl died.

 _But he didn_ _’t fall apart like this_ , she thought. _That_ _’s because he’s stronger than me. I’m just so weak. I always have been. It was just an act, a lie. I’ve never been the strong one._

“You will get through this Hawke,” Anders said. But she didn’t want to. She was tired of losing people.

Hawke agreed to return to the city. They walked slowly and Hawke cried and sniffled the whole way back. He left her the rest of the toasted baguette and nug jerky - she seemed to be able to get a bit of it down, which was a good sign.

“Anders, thank you,” Hawke cried when they arrived at Gamlen’s front door.

“I’ll come check up on you tomorrow, ok?” He said. Hawke sniffled and nodded, and went inside.

It wasn’t long before word got out about the expedition, and how successful it had been. Hawke became a target for every low life in Lowtown. Aveline tried adding extra patrols in the area, but she was growing increasingly scared for the safety of her own men & women. At her request, the Viscount had the estate paperwork expedited, bypassing a number of bureaucratic steps. What would have taken six months or longer, was reduced to two and half. Leandra finally pulled herself out of bed, and threw herself completely into the task of getting ready for the move. She refused to talk about what happened, and often spoke of Bethany as though she were still alive.

Like mother, like daughter - Hawke soon found her own cause to throw herself at. Though she now received dozens of letters every day from those who felt entitled to Hawke’s new wealth, she did occasionally receive a letter from someone who genuinely needed her help, and moreover, her skills. Hawke took on every cause she felt was meaningful. She tried to save every wretched soul who wrote her a letter.

Anders stopped by frequently and had tea with Leandra. Sometimes Hawke would join, but she spent as much time as she could avoiding her mother. Hawke blamed herself and knew that her mother did too.

Reclaiming their estate turned out to be a much greater project than they had anticipated. The Seneschal was the one to officially hand over the deed and the keys to Hawke, but the mess inside was astounding. Of course, the slavers who had been using it as a base of operations had little reason to keep the place clean or tidy, to to fix any of the holes in the roof. It was three more weeks before the estate was repaired and cleaned out enough for them to move in. They moved just before the end of the of year, almost a full year after Hawke and Bethany had initially met with Bartrand about the expedition.

Bodahn insisted in working for the Hawkes, as repayment for saving his boy Sandal. Hawke couldn’t refuse. He was a good man and great at his job. She couldn’t have found anyone better for the job. And they certainly needed help taking care of the estate. It was huge. She never thought it would be this large.

“The Amells were considered for Viscount at one time,” Leandra explained as they overlooked the grand ballroom. Indeed, this reminded her of the Viscount’s own estate, and truthfully, she thought their estate was even nicer. The Viscount certainly had the better view, but the design and craftsmanship of the Amell estate was incredible.

“We’ll have to hold a ball before the end of the year,” Leandra announced matter-of-factly. “I’ll have to send the invitations out next month. But we’ll have to have the house warming party much sooner than that. Next week even.”

The estate was much too larger for just Hawke and her mother. It had ten bedrooms, four guest bedrooms, four servants’ rooms, a ballroom, a grand dining room, a family dining room, a kitchen, a library, a courtyard a study, and of course the foyer and receiving room. It felt so empty and so lonely, even with Bodahn and Sandal living there with them. Hawke told Bodahn to choose any room they wanted, while Hawke and Leandra chose the rooms closest to the receiving room.

Sure enough, a week later Leandra was hosting the house warming party. Hawke was sure that she had invited all of the noble families in Kirkwall to the party, which even included Sebastian. Of course Isabela, Merrill, Aveline, Fenris, Anders, & Varric were all also invited to the party.

“Here, I’ve picked out a dress for you to wear,” Leandra said a few hours before the guests were to arrive.

“I’m not wearing this,” Hawke said. “You know I don’t do well in fancy dresses like this.”

“You _will_ wear it,” Leandra said. “Now come on, hurry up.”

“Mother, stop! Just stop! You can’t keep pretending like nothing happened. You can’t … you can’t keep pretending like Bethany isn’t gone,” Hawke said.

“We are _not_ talking about this right now Charlene. Now you put on that dress and get your hair put up, and you _will_ be downstairs on time for the guests’ arrival,” Leandra said before she rushed out of the room.

Hawke starred at the dress laying on her bed. She wasn’t even sure it would fit her; it looked way too small. It fit, but just barely. It was tight and uncomfortable. It had a high laced collar and long lacy, sheer sleeves. The waist was tight and constricting, and the skirt itself was narrow enough that she was forced to take smaller steps. It was pale lavender with hints of soft pink rose. It even smelt of rose petals. Hawke starred at her short, shoulder length, choppy hair. Isabela had her best to even it out. It was ugly Hawke thought, which perfectly reflected how she felt on the inside. She tied a thin ribbon around her head, with a nice little bow. It was about all she could do with her hair, given its length. And she applied a little makeup at her mother’s dire request. These were all things that Bethany would have loved and would have done so gladly for their mother.

 _And she would have looked infinitely better in the dress or with makeup on_ , Hawke thought.

The guests arrived and were so sickening polite. Their kind words were empty. There was no real care or concern in them. And no one mentioned Bethany. They all ignored the death of her sister as though it was some sort of scandal too taboo to ever speak of. Maybe for the rest of their lives, she wondered. Leandra pulled her over here and then over there, introducing her to so many people. And she didn’t care about any of them. She barely had a chance to speak to her own friends. They stood together in their own little circle, and allowed Bodahn to take them on the grand tour, like he had done a dozen times already that night.

Hawke and Leandra were talking with some, supposed, old friends of the Amells. The woman’s voice grated on Hawke’s ears. She tuned the woman out and stared absent mindedly into the distance. Her eyes searched through the crowd without paying them any real attention. She desperately wanted to go lock herself away in her room. She turned and curtsied when someone touched her shoulder and thanked her for the lovely party. And that’s when she saw her. A woman. She was so familiar. It couldn’t be, but it was! Hawke ran after the woman who turned the corner and was headed to the grand dining room. But when she followed, there was no one there.

“Charlene!” Leandra said, grabbing Hawke’s arm. “What was that all about?” she demanded.

“I-I thought I saw … someone,” Hawke said. She wiped a tear from her eye and pushed passed Leandra. She made her way to the bar and poured herself a large glass of whiskey.

“We … we haven’t really talked,” Leandra whispered behind Hawke. “Maybe we should talk tonight. Once everyone has gone home.”

Hawke didn’t get a chance to respond - Leandra was already whisked away by another guest.

“There you are Hawke,” Aveline said. “It seems like we never get to see you anymore. Or some of us, anyhow.”

“Don’t, please,” Hawke said.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” Aveline sighed. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just worried about you.”

“I wish you would stop,” Hawke said.

“Not a chance,” Aveline replied. “So what are you going to do now? You don’t need the money, but you’re not the type who can’t just sit around all day either.”

“Have any work for me?” Hawke smiled.

“Would you consider joining the guard?” Aveline asked, yet again.

“No, Aveline,” Hawke sighed. “I’m never going to join the guard.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can pass your way,” she said. “You know, you should come by the Hanged Man this week.”

“You guys are still meeting every week?” Hawke asked, surprised. They had started the meetings so that Hawke could raise the money for the expedition, which was now over. She, Varric, & Fenris were now rich - so they weren’t in need of work. She had donated a sizable portion to Anders clinic so he also wasn’t hurting for funds either, and Isabela always seemed to have coin. So why did they still need to meet to discuss jobs.

“We might not need the work anymore, but we are still friends,” Aveline said. “The boys have even been on their best behavior since you returned.” She was speaking of Anders and Fenris, of course.

“I’ll … think about it,” Hawke said.

~

The party finally ended and the guests had all left. Bodahn and Sandal were busy clearing away all the leftover food and putting away decorations, and taking out the trash.

“Charlene,” Leandra said stepping into the doorway of Hawke’s room. Hawke had already changed out of her dress and into a loose tunic and comfortable trousers.

“I … I know this hasn’t been easy on you either. And I’m sure all of this looks like I’m ignoring what happened. But my little babies are gone.” Leandra teared up and sat down on Hawke’s bed. “I know they’re gone and they’re never coming back. But Bethany was so excited for the estate. We had talked countless times about the house warming party. She’s the one who picked out that dress for you, you know. She … she would want us to spend our time enjoying the estate, being happy, not spend our time in sorrow.”

“I’m so sorry mother,” Hawke cried and hugged her mother.

“It’s not your fault Charlie,” Leandra said.

“Yes it is,” Hawke insisted. Leandra held Hawke tightly and they cried. They agreed to go to the family shrine together the next week, and before they knew it, there was a whole gathering. The real funeral, Hawke called it. The whole gang was there, plus Bodahn and Sandal. But it was much less a celebration than the last time they had all gathered there. Tears replaced laughter, and silence replaced singing. They didn’t stay long either.

Hawke started coming by the Hanged Man again, but she was more distant than ever, and her alcohol consumption had increased significantly. She took whatever jobs Aveline sent her way, and she looked for more work wherever she could find it. The more dangerous, the better.

One job came from a letter she had received from Sampson, the ex-templar. He had been contacted by another mother whose child who had runaway, and he suspected that another slaver had stepped in and taken the boy. What Sampson had stumbled onto turned out to be a very large slave ring, that was deeply and secretly entrenched in the fabric of Kirkwall society. Hawke enlisted Fenris’ help, and together they spent day and night cautiously tracking them down, trying to infiltrate their ranks, and viscously take them out. Unfortunately, it was only a few months later that their cover was blown and the rest of the ring went into hiding, and they lost the trail. The good news is that while these men escaped justice, it did at least stop their slave operations for a significant length of time. No one was eager to resume the business while Hawke and Fenris remained in Kirkwall.

It was also about that time that Liam returned to Kirkwall and heard about Hawke’s recent change of social status. His family paid Hawke and Leandra a visit, where he offered to train Hawke. She buried herself in her booze, her jobs, and her training with Liam. Hawke was moving on, slowly and ever painfully.


End file.
